Taking Shots, Not Giving Them

Still feeling pretty messed this morning. In the afternoon I went with Mike and a friend of his to Rudy’s Barbeque. Good old down home southern BBQ. Gotta love an establishment where you order the meat by the pound and eat it on sheets of wax paper. 1/3 lb. beef brisket, 1/3 lb. turkey, ½ lb. bbq pulled pork, 5 ribs, ½ lb. po-ta-to salad, some beans and a couple a jalapeños.
That evening went to a couple of “Post Exams” gatherings. First was at Mike’s friend Angela’s incredibly pimp apartment - floor to ceiling windows, awesome antique Mexican furniture and the same shower that Francis Ford Copula has. Just a chill get-together with some of Mike’s tighter circle of Med School buddies. Lots of exam chatter ( “Can you believe that question about the cream-master gland”… and the like). Then we cruised to another house, where they were having a Med student kegger. What I saw at this place would scare the crap out of anyone considering calling up for their next appointment. I can’t believe that these were the future of the American medical system rests in the hands of these lunatics. I spent the night trying to imagine some of the party goers attempting delicate brain surgery or installing a pace maker – maybe it will be the kid dressed like an elf (green face paint, hair dye and all) doing jello shots in the garage or maybe it will be the guy slurring sweet nothings to the homely girl in the corner. Perhaps it will be the girl in the red sequin pants humping drunk Chewbacca on the make shift dance floor or maybe the guy chugging Knob Creek straight from the bottle… kind of frightening. The night ended with me convincing Mike to come down from the tree that he had climbed into (don’t ask) and rolling back to his house to crash