Greeting from Ft. Worth, Texas.
There is plenty I could blog about since last time, but I'm lazy and put it off. But here I am in Ft. Worth, and boy do I have a story for you...
Javi and I were out drinking with Kristi and her boyfriend at the Houston Street Bar. I don't keep count of how many beers I drink, because to me it's not a competition (although if it was, I'd win). After a while, we realized that we'd all had been running on little sleep, it was 9:30 PM, and we were ready to crash. We parted ways. Javi and I made our walk back to the hotel. We couldn't escape the thought of "pizza" which was brought up by Kristi's boyfriend not long before. We arrived in the hotel lobby and approached the front desk. After ordering Domino's, and whilst Jav was intertwined in conversations with others in the lobby, I struck up a conversation with the front desk staff. We discussed the hotel that was completed only a few months earlier, and the options of this hotel's chain in Austin. It was a pleasant conversation, but nothing too thought provoking. After a while, we and the entourage we had acquired mad our way to a seating area. Slowly, our entourage dwindled to just myself and Javi. As this was being realized, a hotel staff member was rounding the corner with a bottle of champagne, and four champagne flutes on a server’s tray. He approached our area to our surprise. We inquired as to where those were going. He replied by stating that it was for us. We were clearly confused. Luckily, as this confusion was overcoming us, the front desk staffer who I had previously spoke with announced that it was a complimentary bottle that was ordered for our group, which now included myself and Javi.
WHAT?!?!?!?! Fricken' Sweet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We called around so that we would have others to share the bubbly with, and were successful in recruiting two recruiters from Angelo State University. Later we were joined by a recruiter from the University of Houston.
It was a great way to end a night and a story that I will tell for many years. This hotel has a patron for life... if ever I could afford to stay at this over priced joint. Hahahaha.
Showing posts with label bars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bars. Show all posts
Monday, March 30, 2009
Say What?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Michigan Trip
Thank the Lord, I figured out how to get this video to show.
For the time and effort I put into creating this, I hope it gets your approval.
Michigan Trip from Reed Rallojay on Vimeo.
For the time and effort I put into creating this, I hope it gets your approval.
Michigan Trip from Reed Rallojay on Vimeo.
Monday, December 1, 2008
25 Years Old
Saturday (the night before my birthday) my friends and I went out to celebrate my birthday. We started of eating sushi, then made our way to the bars. We were bar hopping. At our 3rd establishment I officially turned 25. I was drinking a Sam Adams Cherry Wheat (my favorite), and walked out the back to the beer garden. My entourage followed. There was a countdown, and then it was announced. Glasses and bottles were raised. We drank. Then, as though an omen... not even 30 seconds into my birthday I received my first gift.
Aside from my face being a little flush from the sunshine earlier in the day (BS), you can see the bird shit on my hand. I had plenty of volunteers willing to document this splendid occasion with their cameras. Thanks ya'll. So there you have it. That was how I began my 25th year of life. More to come about my birthday.
Aside from my face being a little flush from the sunshine earlier in the day (BS), you can see the bird shit on my hand. I had plenty of volunteers willing to document this splendid occasion with their cameras. Thanks ya'll. So there you have it. That was how I began my 25th year of life. More to come about my birthday.
Friday, October 17, 2008
One for the record books
At my last evening college fair in Houston, I was invited to hang by a recruiter to to a gathering at her place. After I had got back to my hotel, got cleaned up, and ready to go plans changed and the the house was no longer an option.
Rather than stay in on my last night in Houston, I decided to venture out and get a few drinks somewhere. Thanks to Yelp for helping me find the type of bar I wanted to go to. I happened upon Shakespeare Pub (not to be mistaken for Shakespeare's Pub in Kalamazoo, MI).
This dive bar featured live blues music that put me in a great mood, $3 bottles of domestic (since the Shiner wasn't cold yet), and locals. The dimly lit pub had the illusion from the parking lot that there was standing room only. That was the case on the patio, not inside though. I walked in and through the front door you walked right up to the edge of the stage (stage right, to be exact). The stage was littered with instruments waiting to be felt-up like a prom date. I hadn't realized that I just missed a set and the band was taking five. Although there weren't too many people present, I "B-lined it" to the far side of the bar where there appeared to be a few empty seats. I sat in the stool, raised my feet to find a ledge, a foot rest... to the perfect height as though it were made just for me. I raised my eyes to the televisions to see the highlights of the Boston-Tampa game. I have no allegiances to either team, but I felt excited to learn of the comeback by Boston who was at one point down by 7. This was the start to a good evening. I could feel it.
I placed my order of a "Shiner" to the friendly, rotund, curly red-headed bartender. She informed me that the keg was delivered late and hadn't chilled long enough to be served. I glanced over to the bar and saw Bud Light bottles. Some in hands, others abandoned on the bar. I quickly ordered a bottle, so not to seem like a indecisive, yuppie, schmuck. As I waited for the first beer, I observed my fellow patrons. I could tell which were the regulars, the locals, and which were the ones who probably weren't from around here. (Them speaking french was somewhat of a give away). But it was a friendly crowd. They knew each other by their first names. They looked after the bottle or change of the person sitting next to them who stepped out for a cigarette or to use the John. It was a familiar feeling.
A beer or so later, after the ball game's highlights were over and Sex in the City was displayed, the band slowly made their way to the stage one-by-one. I was probably the only one who noticed what was on the TV. I asked for it to be changed, and the bartender responded by handing me the remote. I wanted to put on CNN, but my better judgment told me that this is a bar, and ESPN would make me less of a target later in the night should anything go down. But it didn't matter. The electric guitar was being strum, and along with everyone else my attention turned to the stage.
"Sonny Boy" Terry, like the contractor who built the bar, must have known that I was going to be there because the sweet sound of blues music brought so much life to the dreary week I had been having in rainy Houston. The combination he and guitar player Little Ray Ybarra had going put me in a great mood. These guys were not out of place and neither was their music.
This was a great night... however there is one section of the night, to funny to exclude from this posting.
At one point during the night I was drinking another Bud Light when two ladies passed behind me on the way to the restroom. One of those ladies walked her fingers across my shoulders. Oh, Jesus. At the time, I was minding my own business, jammin' out to the tunes. The lady, who I later described in a text message to a friend as "unsavory, not petite blond woman", was on the prowl. I observed her making a fool of herself hitting on Sonny Boy as he's trying to play a song. She later came by after using the restroom and attempted small talk. She was doing an excellent job of sweet talking me. Informing my that I was the best looking man in the whole bar, which after reflection probably wasn't saying much. I was also probably the youngest guy in the bar as well. She continued to compliment me. But began to catch on that I wasn't looking (at least not for her). She asked, "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" Seeing the opportunity to politely remove myself from any further pursuits, I affirmed her assumption. She then made some comment about me being Hispanic. Inside, I was laughing... outside I was puzzled. She then continued with remarks about how lucky my girlfriend is, but how Hispanic men have more needs, that we have desires that aren't met by our girlfriends, but could be met (and more) by her. Uhhh... This girl was persistent. To my Latino brothers... this girl is giving you fellas a bad name. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was half Filipino, and not at all Hispanic. I did however have the heart (and mind) to decline her offer for a final time. She called me a gentleman. And that I didn't belong in a bar such as this. She lingered a few moments. She told me she was protecting me. "From who?" I thought. "The hotter brunette on the other side of the bar?" Sure, she was the best looking chick at the bar... but she was also inebriated. And, well frankly, it's not my style to pick up the drunkest chick at the bar (unless I'm the one who brought her there). Shortly there after, my pursuer told me good night and left me to my beer and music. I turned away from her and probably had the facial expression that ready, "What the hell was that sh*t?!"
I couldn't have asked for a better night in Houston, TX.
Rather than stay in on my last night in Houston, I decided to venture out and get a few drinks somewhere. Thanks to Yelp for helping me find the type of bar I wanted to go to. I happened upon Shakespeare Pub (not to be mistaken for Shakespeare's Pub in Kalamazoo, MI).
This dive bar featured live blues music that put me in a great mood, $3 bottles of domestic (since the Shiner wasn't cold yet), and locals. The dimly lit pub had the illusion from the parking lot that there was standing room only. That was the case on the patio, not inside though. I walked in and through the front door you walked right up to the edge of the stage (stage right, to be exact). The stage was littered with instruments waiting to be felt-up like a prom date. I hadn't realized that I just missed a set and the band was taking five. Although there weren't too many people present, I "B-lined it" to the far side of the bar where there appeared to be a few empty seats. I sat in the stool, raised my feet to find a ledge, a foot rest... to the perfect height as though it were made just for me. I raised my eyes to the televisions to see the highlights of the Boston-Tampa game. I have no allegiances to either team, but I felt excited to learn of the comeback by Boston who was at one point down by 7. This was the start to a good evening. I could feel it.
I placed my order of a "Shiner" to the friendly, rotund, curly red-headed bartender. She informed me that the keg was delivered late and hadn't chilled long enough to be served. I glanced over to the bar and saw Bud Light bottles. Some in hands, others abandoned on the bar. I quickly ordered a bottle, so not to seem like a indecisive, yuppie, schmuck. As I waited for the first beer, I observed my fellow patrons. I could tell which were the regulars, the locals, and which were the ones who probably weren't from around here. (Them speaking french was somewhat of a give away). But it was a friendly crowd. They knew each other by their first names. They looked after the bottle or change of the person sitting next to them who stepped out for a cigarette or to use the John. It was a familiar feeling.
A beer or so later, after the ball game's highlights were over and Sex in the City was displayed, the band slowly made their way to the stage one-by-one. I was probably the only one who noticed what was on the TV. I asked for it to be changed, and the bartender responded by handing me the remote. I wanted to put on CNN, but my better judgment told me that this is a bar, and ESPN would make me less of a target later in the night should anything go down. But it didn't matter. The electric guitar was being strum, and along with everyone else my attention turned to the stage.
"Sonny Boy" Terry, like the contractor who built the bar, must have known that I was going to be there because the sweet sound of blues music brought so much life to the dreary week I had been having in rainy Houston. The combination he and guitar player Little Ray Ybarra had going put me in a great mood. These guys were not out of place and neither was their music.
This was a great night... however there is one section of the night, to funny to exclude from this posting.
At one point during the night I was drinking another Bud Light when two ladies passed behind me on the way to the restroom. One of those ladies walked her fingers across my shoulders. Oh, Jesus. At the time, I was minding my own business, jammin' out to the tunes. The lady, who I later described in a text message to a friend as "unsavory, not petite blond woman", was on the prowl. I observed her making a fool of herself hitting on Sonny Boy as he's trying to play a song. She later came by after using the restroom and attempted small talk. She was doing an excellent job of sweet talking me. Informing my that I was the best looking man in the whole bar, which after reflection probably wasn't saying much. I was also probably the youngest guy in the bar as well. She continued to compliment me. But began to catch on that I wasn't looking (at least not for her). She asked, "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" Seeing the opportunity to politely remove myself from any further pursuits, I affirmed her assumption. She then made some comment about me being Hispanic. Inside, I was laughing... outside I was puzzled. She then continued with remarks about how lucky my girlfriend is, but how Hispanic men have more needs, that we have desires that aren't met by our girlfriends, but could be met (and more) by her. Uhhh... This girl was persistent. To my Latino brothers... this girl is giving you fellas a bad name. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was half Filipino, and not at all Hispanic. I did however have the heart (and mind) to decline her offer for a final time. She called me a gentleman. And that I didn't belong in a bar such as this. She lingered a few moments. She told me she was protecting me. "From who?" I thought. "The hotter brunette on the other side of the bar?" Sure, she was the best looking chick at the bar... but she was also inebriated. And, well frankly, it's not my style to pick up the drunkest chick at the bar (unless I'm the one who brought her there). Shortly there after, my pursuer told me good night and left me to my beer and music. I turned away from her and probably had the facial expression that ready, "What the hell was that sh*t?!"
I couldn't have asked for a better night in Houston, TX.
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