Drink it up

I was in college once -- really. I understand the whole "leave no soldier wounded" mentality regarding alcoholic beverages. In fact, much to my mother's dismay, I still practice this sometimes (I can't even begin to tell you how many times my mom has told me "you've had enough; leave that soldier wounded"). I completely understand if one wants to finish his or her beer before getting up and leaving the table at a restaurant.

But Fred took this to a whole new level. The first time we went out to eat, he got up to go. I followed his lead, stood up and started to walk to the door. I was outside before I turned around and saw Fred's fat ass still standing at the table, chugging every single liquid on the table. Really. His beer, my coke, his water, my water. He drank each beverage as if he were trying to set the world record for speed drinking, resulting in beer, coke and water dribbled on his face and the front of his shirt. I had never seen anything like this before. It was truly a disgusting display.

When he finally made it outside, I had no idea what to make of what I had just seen. "Thirsty?" I asked him, slightly confused. I figured this was a one time deal, so I didn't really press the issue. Boy, was I wrong.

Every single time we went out, he would do this. It's not the fact that he wanted to drink everything on the table that bothered me -- it was the fact that he could not do this while sitting at the table. He would stand up, sometimes put on his coat, then chug everything on the table as if in two seconds, all the glasses would be taken violently away from him and he would never have another drop of liquid again. He did not leave a drop of anything on the table. It was amazing. He even consumed a good amount of the ice in his quest to drink as much as physically possible. Every single fricking time we went out. Even though it was clearly his goal to cram every liquid on the table down this throat as quickly as possible, the entire act usually took around a minute, which usually meant I was well on my way out the door before he started to actually leave.

I asked -- no, begged him to just drink what he wanted to drink while he was still sitting down. Aside from looking like a complete ass, he was blocking traffic for the wait staff trying to do their jobs by standing up in the middle of an aisle.

After a couple of months of this, I would start not getting up when he did because I knew the whole chugging display would take-up a ton of time.

Finally one day, I stopped him before getting up and told him in a very stern voice that I was serious about him not standing up to do the obligatory chug every single time we went out. I asked him to remain seated and drink what he wanted to drink. He seemed to listen and sheepishly finished his water, then said he was ready. I thought I had finally gotten through to him, and happily stood up and made my way to the door.

Half way out, I turned around and saw him standing at the table, chugging my drink. He looked at me as he finished my drink with a big, shit-eating grin on his face. Not only did he look like a complete dumbass, he was doing it just to spite me. At this point, it wasn't the fact that he was completely (for this and other reasons) not restaurant-trained that bothered me, it was the fact that he was determined look like white trash everywhere he went, even when he knew better.

The moment I locked eyes with him as he was putting my empty glass on the table was the exact moment I knew things weren't going to work out.