Apocalyptic Birthday

Dark skies. Windmills stopped. A mountain which looked as though it was being called up into the clouds. Raindrops the size of quarters. This was our drive to the desert last weekend for my friend’s birthday. We half expected to see locusts and made nervous jokes about three of us being first born sons. Our phones kept blaring flash flood warnings, startling us all into inappropriate laughter.

When we arrived at our destination it was no longer raining, but two of my friends’ glasses fogged up the moment we got out of the car. It was 95 degrees and wet. We were about an hour before check in time, so the four of us decided to go eat. We had an amazing meal, bloody marys (I’m sure I was the only pretentious asshole who drank it while thinking about Queen Mary Tudor), I was flirted with by the cute Latino bus boy (so it HAD to be obvious if I noticed it), and laughed our butts off.

Back at the hotel, three of us threw our stuff in the room, changed, and assaulted the pool with our presences. I have lost weight, but still felt like a cow at 135 (yes, that was self-justification. I’m a short gay male. It happens). The birthday boy jumped into the pool, and our friend joked that his phone was going off with a tidal wave warning. This same friend refused to get into the pool, saying he was fine just putting his legs in. My friends being the asses they most definitely are, later mentioned to me in private that he had gained a great deal of weight (he has) and that his refusal to get into the pool didn’t disguise the sweat stains forming underneath his tits. My friends are treasures, aren’t they?

To further this point, we played a game where we divided into two teams and one reads clues to his/her teammate in an effort to get him to guess it. This is a timed affair. My clue was “pigs in a blanket”. Jokingly, I said, “We are all…” My friend the birthday boy yelled “FAAAAT!” so loud that we didn’t hear the timer go off, and I’m certain that at least one window rattled in its frame. Mr. Sweaty Tits and I went to pick up food and played a game detailing sexual iniquities and sins. Essentially, the purest one should have won, that being the birthday boy. Somehow, I won the game by virtue of a sheltered childhood (which led into an adulthood of debauchery. I believe I described my old apartment as a Brothel of Sin. I miss that place.)

The next day I awoke to another flash flood warning and a sky the color of Satan’s taint after a long and crippling infection. We ate, swam, and in the early evening drove up a scary ass mountain to watch the sunset. I didn’t realize I had a giant wuss inside me, but the drive up scared the hell out of me — sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, etc. We saw a sandstorm below us. We drank, toasted the end of a decade, and were chased down the mountain by encroaching clouds full of lightning and terror.

More fun, more swimming, more drinking, and a lot more eating later, and two of us found ourselves in a tub the size of a jacuzzi (with our swimming clothes on), and had an incident with overflowing bubbles like something out of an I Love Lucy episode. Pictures were taken, lives threatened, and a good time was had by all.

I suppose that last sentence about sums up my friend’s Apocalyptic Birthday.

Now I’m left with that leaning forward feeling, like I’m looking forward to a vacation on the horizon…which doesn’t exist.

Yet. I plan to change that.

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~ by Darren Endymion on September 15, 2014.

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