Are You a Rockstar?

We’ve all had one of these nights. The one when you’re completely obliterated by alcohol but are still able to stand up strait and not irritate your friends. You seem to be the center of life and the universe for a few hours. Here’s one of my Rockstar nights.

Dec. 31 2006. My wife was in Central America, I just got paid, and it was New Years eve. I started drinking at a cookout earlier that day. 40 oz. after 40 oz. One shot of Crown Royale after another. The whole afternoon was just a stream of hilarious comments from my mouth. I crashed at about 8 or so for an hour. Then some guys came in from out of town. We went Downtown Denver club hopping. But before that we stopped at a friends house and slammed a bunch of Redbull and vodkas. With my blood alcohol level at an all time high, and my adrenaline pumping from the Redbull we hit the city streets hard.

I was tripping balls. I almost got run over by a white sedan. I slapped the back of the car as it passed and it stopped hard. A huge Jamaican dude got out and threatened my life. I didn’t pay the guy any mind. Ten minutes later a couple of the guys started streaking down Blake street outside of the ball park. Fifteen minutes later we were waiting in line for LoDo’s. When we were kicked out of line, one of the crew hit one of Denver’s finest in the face with a snowball. I pulled some kid out of a limo window, I think I knew him. After that we went to the back door of a club. As soon as an employee came out with the trash we blitzed the door and split up. I hid in the bathroom for a second then went to what I thought was the dance floor. I tried dancing with some chick and fell over. The vodka had kicked in.

From this point everything gets a little blurry. I remember being tossed airborn down a flight of stairs. I hit a patch of ice and slid off of the sidewalk into a parked car. This was my first parked car incidence. Upon realizing that I was the only one that got caught, and I had no idea what bar I was at or where exactly in LoDo I was, I started calling random numbers in my phone book. I was hoping to call on of the guys I was with.

I heard the crowd count down to midnight. After that my phone finally rung. My brother came out and got me. The liquor was ready to come out. No one will let a drunk use the toilet. I walk into an alleyway, followed by six members of DPD. As soon as I whipped it out they grabbed me, I was caught. One of the cops thought I was someone he busted the week before. He’s in my face my junk’s flapping in the cold December wind. They rough me up a little in the alley. Some people come down the alley and they threw me onto another patch of ice. I slid about four feet into another parked car. My brother picks me up, I put my junk away. We start our way back to the apartment we would crash at.

I pass out on the couch at about 1am. I awake to party chants down the hall, but I can’t even move. I wake up again at about 4 am. Some one’s peeing on a wall.

There was nine of us I found out the next morning. We ate breakfast and pieced together the night. With eye witness memories and a couple of digital pics we rewrote the evenings events.

It is now obvious to me why celebrities do what they do. It’s fun. I had the Superman Complex that night. I just knew no cop could haul me in, and that no body wanted any trouble with us. For that night I was a Rockstar in every sence of the word. I was untouchable. That must be how R kelly felt when he beat the case.