How Broke Bitches Get Drunk

A mix of divine intervention, preparation, and, by the luck of the Irish, an opportunity to shamelessly abuse a new brand’s free marketing initiatives.

My friend–previously mentioned but nameless for the sake of her future political career–and I have a unique, totally unemployable (as ever) talent of freeloading off of other people when we’re out. Our bartering chip is the promise of bringing the party. As a pair, we’ve built a loose fanbase across the globe on the sole foundation that we provide shameless entertainment, in one form or another (God help us if anyone out there has any video footage). Our Norwegian friend, affectionately nicknamed ‘Toto’, once called our humor “majestic” (real talk).

We’ve been painfully broke for as long as I can remember, and by some divine spirit’s will (evil or good…most likely evil), we’ve managed to pull together our combined pebbles to make it out to the bar or club scene, buy a single drink, and have the rest of the night paid for on someone else’s tab (without overtly robbing them). I guess we just belong to another breed of street performer.

One night, down in the Latin hemisphere, we took the last bus of the night into town (10:56pm), knowing full well that we would have to spend the rest of the night out until the first bus the next morning (6am). We went to a bar, bought ourselves a drink, then started mingling. We met three Puerto Ricans and a German, who worked in broadcasting for Bundesliga (of course, we didn’t make the connection to network professionally because I’m an eternal fuck-up that way), when we were asked to take their photo. How did we spot them? We didn’t. We spotted their iced bucket of Coronas. One thing led to another, and we were whisked away with them to a pizza parlor before hitting a gay nightclub across town (where I was offered free cocaine in the unisex bathrooms–I was flattered, too drunk to be alarmed, but graciously declined). After that, they gave us a ride home at around 5am. Free drinks, free pizza, free club cover and free ride. That American dream.

I bring this up because two sayings come to mind:
1) Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
2) Necessity is the mother of invention.

Last night was my Portland friend’s last night in town, so I took her to a rooftop restaurant/bar overlooking the beach. We sniffed out the location because they have a ‘Relaxed Hour’ from 3-7pm. We bought one drink each. Then two promo girls came up to us and asked if we’d like to try Kenny Chesney’s new rum called Blue Chair Bay. Free shot of booze? Hell ya! “Drinks tonight are $4, and if you buy a drink you get a bandana and a t-shirt.” So we bought two piña coladas for $4 each and came home clothed like gangstas (the rum is delicious, by the way).

If there is anything to glean from this story, it’s this: miserliness has its benefits (aka: bootleggin’ it ain’t so bad)

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