Featured image courtesy of Marc Hubler.
So, “Texts from Drunk Dave”.
I’m hoping that most of you have had the enjoyment in the past of stumbling across the “Texts from Dog” Tumbler page. Basically, for those who haven’t (and please click on the link – I’ll give you a shiny nickel if that page doesn’t make you smile), it’s pure comedy gold. It’s set on the idea that a guy gets his dog a cell phone so they can communicate over the great man-versus-dog language barrier. It’s a bunch of screen-grab pics of those various little conversation snippets, played out in cell phone texts. Great in its execution and set-up of some of the jokes.
Then…there’s Drunk Dave.
Drunk Dave is the evil Doctor-Jekyll-and-Mr-Hyde arch-nemesis of David, a new guy on our group trip of Canadians down to the Encuentros Partagas last week. Big tall guy, crazy marathon runner, churro lover like myself and Marc, out for a good time in Havana with the ladies, and able to recover from a night of drinking like nobody’s business. This, then, led to David frequently becoming Drunk Dave.
He starts off the week with us all going on an arrival-night bender til the wee hours of the morning – and then running a 10k-variant of a planned 1/2-marathon with the Havana Marathon going on the next day. Caps it off by getting slugged again the next day.
Rarely passed up a chance to fill his pockets with cans of Cristal, never turned down a mojito, and frequently twisted the arms of the rest of us (oh so hard, I know, LOL) into doing bottle service with lots and lots of rum.
But then it happened. He had no “wingmen” for an evening. He did end up going out with one older gent, but it wasn’t enough for Drunk Dave. While the rest of us tried to have one single night of decent sleep during the week, and to try to prep for the mad dash which would become the last few days, Drunk Dave was in full swing. At the bar. Alone. With a cell phone.
And so, with me going to bed at the completely unreasonable-to-Drunk-Dave time of about 10:40 pm, it began. He started texting me. Trying to get us to come out to the bar. I tried to send him a tongue-in-cheek, shrug-it-off way of saying fuck off and let me sleep, but oh no, that wasn’t good by Drunk Dave. As I snored away after switching my phone to silent mode, the texts continued…until damn near 2am. LOL…
But lord love him, he can recover from a 5am-ending night like Superman shrugs off a mosquito bite. And like me – he loves a damn good super-loaded-full-of-rum pina colada.
Honey – for the record, he didn’t see shit.
Nice try, Dave – I know better than to store stuff like that on my cell phone. Unlike others. Ahem, ahem, ahem, Monsieur Dav-id!!!!!
Long live the Drunk Dave. Here’s to next year’s trip. I better start training now to keep up. LOL.
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