Back when I was still drinking, or at least, starting to drink heavily, I had an encounter with a woman who seemed to know everything. Or at least, everything that there was to know about playing pool.
I was still close with my ex-best friend, and we were always going out and getting drunk, enjoying a smoke or two, a beer or more, and like always, a nightly ritual of playing pool.
This specific night I had met this brunette, and as any other drunken night, it was a faded one.
A drink here and there, a smoke outside, a couple of laughs at the simplicity of life, and another drink later, we found ourselves playing pool.
Pitcher's was a good bar; let me rephrase, it was a good enough bar to play pool in. Buy a pitcher of beer, get a table. It seemed simple, so it worked.
Dark was the night, and as we had exchanged laughs and stories, to which my memory fails me, we found ourselves inside playing pool. I cannot recall the name of the game, for it has been a while since I last played, but all of us three were playing, and as I kept stumbling around in my drunkness, she implored that I needed to do the "Erica Shot" in order to make a really great one.
I wondered what it was, so I asked her to demonstrate. It wasn't anything particularly amazing, for it was merely a trick--a trick to get us to talk more, buy more for her to drink, and alas, we did.
Thing is, the "Erica Shot" worked.
She kicked our ass.
Both at pool, and the game of life.
I miss pool.
Almost as much as I miss drinking.
Not.
I was still close with my ex-best friend, and we were always going out and getting drunk, enjoying a smoke or two, a beer or more, and like always, a nightly ritual of playing pool.
This specific night I had met this brunette, and as any other drunken night, it was a faded one.
A drink here and there, a smoke outside, a couple of laughs at the simplicity of life, and another drink later, we found ourselves playing pool.
Pitcher's was a good bar; let me rephrase, it was a good enough bar to play pool in. Buy a pitcher of beer, get a table. It seemed simple, so it worked.
Dark was the night, and as we had exchanged laughs and stories, to which my memory fails me, we found ourselves inside playing pool. I cannot recall the name of the game, for it has been a while since I last played, but all of us three were playing, and as I kept stumbling around in my drunkness, she implored that I needed to do the "Erica Shot" in order to make a really great one.
I wondered what it was, so I asked her to demonstrate. It wasn't anything particularly amazing, for it was merely a trick--a trick to get us to talk more, buy more for her to drink, and alas, we did.
Thing is, the "Erica Shot" worked.
She kicked our ass.
Both at pool, and the game of life.
I miss pool.
Almost as much as I miss drinking.
Not.
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