"Ito B.I., ito Bi"
1. Organization n. a group of persons united for some purpose
2. Reputable adj. having a good reputation; well thought of; respectable
3. Content n. what is contained in anything; what is written or said; facts or ideas stated
The third one being the most popular due to some ambivalence as to what was being used in certain contexts. If you were listening carefully you would mind noticing them.
“The trick to drinking is to enjoy the taste. Don’t swill the liquor like an idiot, unless it’s some awful rotgut or your life is so miserable you wish to feel instant oblivion in which case, good luck to you.” – Jessica Zafra, Emotional Weather Report
From the SE Auditorium all eight of us – in random order: Irvin, Kevin, Hener, Aaron James, Ian, Billycoy, Jhed, and me – repaired at Drew’s, but prior to that not a single soul knew where to go, and since it was too early for us to go home we decided to flock over at Drew’s in Katipunan. I occasionally go to Katipunan, but unfortunately Drew’s is totally unheard of. I mean, yes, I’ve heard it once or twice but I don’t know where it is. Somebody suggested that Drew’s is near Max’s. So we got down at Max’s. Drew’s wasn’t there. We asked for assistance from a fish ball vendor; we presumed that the hawker knows all the bars in Katipunan. I asked Manong Fish Ball, but he didn’t respond right away – the creaking of the rusty gears inside his nutcase was loud enough to be heard. Nada. Then Jhed approached a security guard at a certain condominium. Niente. Hener had a brilliant idea to walk towards Chiggy’s and Cantina. We trailed along. At the exact right turn from Shakey’s we found Drew’s.
So there we were. All eight of us. There were other inhabitants present in the bar, and they all looked like either from that school in front of McDonald’s or the school beside that school in front of McDonald’s. We ordered two Bola platters and two beverages, liquor, alcoholic something, whatever you call it. One looks like lime juice and the other resembles a pitcher of full of bile. They tasted very great, and in no time people started to act in a bizarre fashion. I wish I had a videocam to eternally capture the bacchanalia we’ve engaged in so that they’d be able to see how they evolved from one species to another. People who weren’t so vocal became gabby, and we discovered who among us has a low tolerance for alcohol. Then Irvin and I noticed someone exuding gushing torrents and rivulets of sweat to think that the place isn’t that warm (Clue: he was right in front of us, sitting in between Aaron and Hener). We had a hard time convincing Ian to swig just one shot of that not so limey lime juice until after an hour or so he finally had the courage to face his greatest adversary, peer pressure. Or alcohol. I, on the other hand, took quite some time to feel the earth swirling. They were taking chasers, but I didn’t.
The one good thing about drinking with intellectuals is that topics don’t usually stray from our interests, and we don’t end up hurting each other with projectile shot glass, ashtrays, or worse, clenched fists hurtling towards each other’s direction. Topics dwelt on work, advertising, salary, school, the correct pronunciation of Le Coeur de France, bitchy people from the media, among other engaging matters. At which point I was staggering but people didn’t seem to notice, and I’ve had good conversations with people whom I have only met online. Half the time during the summit I was the quietest person among the group, as if I don’t exist from reality. Sometimes I just want to shut myself up and just listen to people. It helps because I get to know them better even if I don’t get to converse with them. It’s not that I was afflicted with another case of indifference or irascibility, I was merely trying to connect myself.
Because our parents were in some psychological dilemma Ian and I left Drew’s ahead of others around 8 pm. He could attest that I was a bit talkative while we took the way going to the LRT station. Actually I forgot what I was telling him because I was really out of kilter. Then at the MRT I regained half of myself. Ian went down at Ortigas and he looked rather bedazzled as to where the exit was. I arrived at Taft Avenue round 9.30 pm, and I was going down the stairs when suddenly the steps began to disappear, and I barely missed slipping and landing on my butt. I immediately grabbed the chain on my left that served as railings and immediately sustained balance. I was actually hoping that I could catch a nap but I worried that I might go past my destination. I arrived at our house at exactly 10.30 pm, and felt like hitting my head with nails.