Episode: The one with the jockey

That’s right. I said it. A jockey. Yes, I’m sure that I shouldn’t be sensationalizing the fact that I hung out with a small person, but seeing as how I’m not 6 feet, I feel like I can get away with this, since I am also a small-er person. Anyway, a couple of Saturdays ago, I went out with my friends for what was supposed to be one sensible cocktail and ended up chugging cocktails, running into a girl from high school, taking shots, dancing in a grungier part of a nice restaurant, and making friends with random foreigners. The last part is important because that leads us to the jockey. Now, I don’t know about y’all, but get me a few (ten) shots and I’m Miss chatty Cathy aka I’m telling some random Lebanese artist that he has gorgeous blue eyes and and that I love Lebanese food and PRESTO!  Me and my friends are being invited back to an “after party” at his place in Mt. Pleasant. Now, Twenty-four year old Blerika would be like, “welp, another Saturday,” gone to said rando Lebanese man’s place, tmo’d (duh, topless makeout), and peace’d at the ripe old hour of 6am. But, twenty-seven year old Blerika has apparently learned something from waking up in some rando place (slash having a walk of shame where I ran into a presidential nominee; more on that some other time.) and navigating how close/far I was away from a Metro stop, that I brought new friends with me---EMPHASIS on the word “NEW”. New, because they were friends of friends, so, while they are not sketchy people, it’s not like old friends where you know the type of people they befriend and are able to give the bat signal when things are going south.  And, by the type of people they befriend, I mean, NOT JOCKEYS. Anyway, we’re in the cab, and there’s a small man in the front seat, but one of the new friends told me that he was paying, so I just shut my mouth and went with it. So, we get to the location of said after party and realized, “Ha. Don’t actually have the rando’s number…or apartment number….or name.” We were all starting to have a chuckle about how far this whole mission went awry when the rando shows up with a posse and we all go inside. So, we’re all standing around, listening to music and drinking interesting cocktails (read: mixing cheap alcohol with anything that doesn’t make it taste like cheap alcohol. Anything.), and generally having a great time.  All of a sudden I hear a commotion in the kitchen and a girl comes over to new friends and I and says, “you guys need to leave.” We all looked at each other like, what the heck? But, put down our horrible drinks and left peacefully. Perhaps one the more awkward exits I’ve ever had, but after leaving, new friends and I laughed and thought, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HAPPENED TO GET US KICKED OUT?! Apparently, after talking to my friend from college FS, we found out that the jockey got aggressive EN ESPANOL with one of the girls that lived in the apartment , so she kicked us out. FS had tried to explain to the girl that we didn’t really know him and he’d just kind of followed us there. Instead of making her feel more comfortable with having us there, it made her feel less and, jockey or no jockey, she was NOT ok with having us in her home at 4am. I mean, fair enough. I don’t know that I’d want a bunch of rambunctious people that hang out with random jockeys singing along to Robyn in my apartment at 4am, but at least it makes for a great story.