"Casino Queen, my lord you're mean. I've been gambling like a fiend on your tables so green."

So the first thing I must mention is the title of this post will prove to be deceptive.

So the last time I spoke with you, dear friends, I was leaving the NIN concert with my friend Brook, baby brother Josey and his platonic friend Shannon.

So now comes the time for Brook and I to meet our old friend Andrew, whom we've not seen in lo' these many years. Andrew Hicks is like the Oracle of Comedy. He's like a comedy processor. You just put some thoughts in his head, spin him around, push down with that plastic piece and comedy salad comes out. Only hilarity can possibly ensue from this little get together.

Of course baby brother Josey punks out. So after another terror filled drive back to the hotel, he and his platonic friend Shannon bid us adieu. So Brook and I now take our lives into my non-license having, slightly blotto hands and off we go to meet the Hicks.

Now I don't remember the name of the bar, but you might as well call it Skeeter's Place. Now don't get me wrong here. I love the redneck bars. Few things are as much fun as putting the ol' double play of Skynard and AC/DC on the jukebox and making 13 new friends, all of who are named either Billy Joe, Billy Bob, Billy Ray....or DeAndre. Just kidding...are you paying attention?

Anyway, we find Hicks in his element. He is amongst cool people and he is singing karaoke. Again, don't ask for the song, just keep in mind I was more than a few overpriced stadium beers into my evening at this point. All I know is that bar had an endless supply of Pabst Blue Ribbon...each one served with a little slice of love.

So we have some more drinks, until that fateful time all drinkers fear...closing time. So Andrew, mad genius he is, suggests the short trek to the Player's Island Casino in Maryland Heights, MO.!!!! (Editor's note: Player's Island is not the Casino Queen. Yet it might be just as mean.) The drinks are cheap and the entertainment plentiful. Now who I am to argue with the man about town? I will say Andrew called my Honda Civic a Saturn nearly too many times. I think one more time and he'd have had me convinced I was part of the Saturn cult. And yes Saturn owners you are in a cult. Just like Wal-Mart slaves....I mean associates.

Incidentally, if you'd like a little taste of feel-good socialism, you should visit the blog of Mr. Hicks. He can be found semi-regularly at the following address:

drinkingjournal.blogspot.com

So, now we're at the Casino and the good times are rolling. Andrew, a former co-worker of Brook and I is entertaining as ever while making fun of our fellow former co-workers. The impressions and stories have been heard and told by us many times over and yet when there are enough of us together it never gets old. I have a White Russian in from of me and possibly a Bloody Mary. Keep in mind I'm now several overpriced stadium beer and several underpriced PBR, each served with a little slice of love, into my evening. I only guess I would have had both because when I get really drunk I love double fisting various colored vodka drinks. At some point the redneck bar also provided shots that tasted of whiskey mixed with other booze. ("He takes a whiskey drink. He takes a vodka drink....") You might want to question Andrew as the concoction's Christian name.

It is worth mentioning that several of Andrew's bar friends were along on this trip as well. I remember not much about them except to say Andrew and I began accusing one of them of being a pedophile. I had no evidence of this and probably owe the toddler-tickler an apology. Next time he's working the confessional I'll stop by. All I know is good times were probably had by all. I don't remember them exactly as I was now several overpriced stadium beers, several underpriced PBR (each served with a little slice of love), a few vodka drinks and a whiskey drink into my evening. ("He sings the songs that remind him of the good times....")

Yet sadly, the evening moves on even in a den of gaming and four dollar buffets. Yet, Andrew, knowing more angles that a geometry teacher, informs the party that we may order as many drinks as we care to at last call and will be given like 15 minutes to drink them. So of course we order a couple apiece. Actually, Brook and I in our collected memory think Andrew ordered a couple apiece for the group, but who's really keeping track of these things?

So to sum it all up, we had quite a few drinks and remembered all the things that made us enjoy each other's company. It was a fabulous ending to a great evening. I somehow got Hicks to his home and perhaps even more amazingly got Brook and I to the hotel, all without damage to my car or incarceration for myself. And friends, any story that doesn't end with jail may be boring on the first telling, but it is far more enjoyable on the second.

Until next time when I study the effects of Pitfall! on the video game culture of today.