I came up with a new definition of drunkeness on Saturday: The willingness to bump into people.
On Saturday, the annual Shamrockfest celebration was held on the grounds of RFK Stadium. Mrs. Cutter and I had never gone before, and because of her condition, I didn’t think this would be the year for us either.
But our kickball league – NAKID – asked for volunteers to pour beer in exchange for free admission, and Mrs. Cutter wanted to go, so we volunteered. Since we are both attractive, personable, and modest, NAKID asked us if we would forgo the beer pouring, and instead help man their promotion booth where we would give out T-shirts and other promotional materials, as well as try to get people to join the league.
The weather report for the day was not promising. It was supposed to be rainy all day. Fortunately, our booth was underneath a tent, so we hopefully wouldn’t get too soaked.
We arrived after most of the difficult work in setting up the booth was complete (The pregnancy excuse comes in handy sometimes!) Mrs. Cutter and I walked around briefly, and then she needed to use the bathroom (not an uncommon occurrance these days). The VIP area was nearby, and there were port-a-potties right by the entrance. However, the security guards said that nobody was allowed in before 1 PM. Mrs. Cutter pleaded her case that she was pregnant and just needed to use the bathroom, but security personnel at these events aren’t known for being able to think outside the box. He told us we’d have to walk all the way to the other end of the grounds to use the bathrooms there. After doing so, Mrs. Cutter wasn’t in the best of moods.
When people started arriving to the fest, they would come by our table and ask what was going on. A few people bought “Kiss Me I’m NAKID” shirts, and a lot of people weren’t sure if we actually played kickball without clothes. We also had a flip cup table where people could challenge one of the booth workers to a game of flip cup (with non alcoholic drinks of course) and win a free T-shirt. Many tried, many failed. Later on, I decided to work the booth, but I was playing poorly, so I stepped aside before I handed out too many free shirts. The nearby PETA booth had a guy dressed like a chicken, and I got him to come over and play flip cup, but sadly his non-opposable thumbs and lack of mouth prevented him from really playing.
After working for awhile, I figured I would wander into the VIP area to see how things were going. There was misting rain, so people were getting a little damp. To counter this, people were also getting a little drunk. Because it was the VIP area, all beer was free, so I went to the first beer pouring station I saw. This was a mistake, because apparently, everyone went to the first beer pouring station they saw. This resulted in a line.
When we first said we’d volunteer to pour, they told us not to get too drunk. It was apparent why they said this because the girl pouring beer was hammered, and was not doing a great job. She would typically spill more beer on the ground than in the cup, and she apparently believed that she needed to drink a cup of beer out of each pitcher. She also became chatty, and would stop pouring to drunkenly talk to people. And by talk, I mean ramble.
Here’s the thing, drunk server girl: Nobody wants to talk to you because they think you’re interesting. They talk to you because they either want preferential service or they want you to flash them and possibly bone them later. I’m sure that your views on the Washington Capitals are quite interesting, but please keep them to yourself.
After waiting for a few minutes, I got impatient when a couple of drunk guys came up and decided they would loudly engage her in conversation. This pretty much put a stop to the beer serving until I shouted at them to shut up so she’d actually pour some beer. This caused all three of them to get angry and start yelling at me. Somehow, she managed to splash some beer in my cup, so I headed away.
I then realized there were several other stands where you could get beer much more immediately and with less frustration, so I used them for the rest of the afternoon.
I continued to work at the tent, promoting the league and selling T-shirts. At one point, a child came over to the table, and Mrs. Cutter showed off her parenting skills by teaching the child how to play flip cup. It was amusing how some people would come over and say “Flip cup? I’m awesome at flip cup!” While some of them were legitimately good, most of them were not even close to being up to our league’s standards.
Towards the late afternoon, it began to rain somewhat heavier. We were thankful that we were stationed under the tent and not pouring beer, because the beer pourers got quite wet, and from all reports weren’t that happy about it. Our tent became fairly crowded as people tried to stay out of the rain. It gave us more of a chance to promote, but considering the increasing levels of inebriation, I’m not sure how efffective it was.
It was somewhat amusing to see the change in the crowd as the day went on. People got drunker and drunker, and lost coherence. I had one girl ask me for a drink. When I told her that I didn’t have any, she insisted, and kept trying to give me her drink ticket. I’m sure a few of the people who signed up for the kickball league woke up the next day wondering what the hell they joined.
I went back into the VIP area for a little while where I helped out two of my friends who were pouring beer. They’d pour me beer, and then crawl under the table so that they could share it with me. They seemed quite grateful for this. Apparently, their group had gotten into a scuffle with another group who wanted to continue working since they were earning a decent amount of tips. I also braved the port-a-potty line which had gotten quite long by this point. Remember, you don’t buy beer, you just rent it.
After awhile, Mrs. Cutter was worn out and didn’t want to deal with drunk people anymore, so we headed out. I felt slightly bad for the people who had to pack away the booth, but not bad enough to pass up my ride home.
Did we have a good time? Yes. Would it have been better without the rain? I’m not sure. The rain was somewhat helpful in that it kept the crowd down. Since Mrs. Cutter couldn’t drink, that might have been a good thing. We also didn’t see any of the bands playing there. Mrs. Cutter had wanted to see a couple of them, but I had no real interest. Overall, it was a fun enough time, especially since I got free lunch and got to drink a few beers for free. Not bad for a day’s work.