Wake Me When It's Happy Hour

I finally got my beach nap by default. My housemates decided to feed their hangovers by going out for burgers for lunch and two of us chose to stay behind at the beach instead. I spread out my beach towel under the umbrella and told my companion I was taking a little nap.

When I awakened an hour and a half later, he said he'd taken two walks and gone in the water three times waiting for me to get up. I'd slept so hard that I had a crick in my neck from the uneven sand and not moving for so long, but it was a small price to pay for finally getting my nap.

I'd been awakened by my sister announcing it was happy hour, a pleasant enough event since we did it today on the beach, enjoying the beautiful late afternoon weather and absence of crowds. One of the guys commented that the abundance of empty peanut shells surrounding our encampment made it look like the circus had been through.

For the last night, the tradition is to go to a local steakhouse, JK's, for red meat. We took over an alcove in the bar, putting a collection of little bar tables together to accommodate us. With so many guys, it became a competition of who was eating the biggest hunk o' meat.

I was more than satisfied with a 6 ounce petite fillet, but one guy got the cowboy steak (26-28 oz.) and another the bone-in rib eye, a 20-ounce wonder. Of course the meat was perfectly seasoned and cooked; isn't that why people go to steakhouses? It can't be for the skull and lasso decor. With the accompanying Red Bliss mashed potatoes and broccolini with Hollandaise sauce, we were all in a food coma by the time we left.

Because this is a group that believes that alcohol cuts that full feeling, we headed back to the Lucky 12 for a nightcap...or several. Our bartender from last night was off-duty but drinking in the bar and he came over to say hello and continue our music chat from last night. Now that we were on the same side of the bar, he wanted to further discuss some of the bands we had begun talking about last night.

That, and tease me about some of my housemates' inebriation last evening. I told him about my surprise of a snoring roommate last night. I got no empathy from him, however; he picked up my left hand, pointed to the absence of a ring, grinned and shrugged (unattached = fair game?).

Once home, we went down to the beach for a leisurely walk and enjoyed fireworks courtesy of some new arrivals. When we came back up, we splintered into groups, some to the pool, some to the hot tub and others to the deck to enjoy the view of the moon and the stars.

It was all so civilized that I almost forgot that I was staying in what amounts to a frat house but with good wine.

All the same, I'm locking my bedroom door tonight.