Got a text today. It was a friend telling me of his cousin's death. Robbie was 51.
I met Robbie through my friend on a trip to Boston. We stayed in his one bedroom apartment and took over the living room, the hallways and where else we crashed on a drunken weekend. We at junk food, farted a lot and laughed our asses off. We got Robbie kicked out of his local bar on on other trips we got kicked out of quite a few places. We became famous, or infamous one trip as being the "Wassup" guys. Remember those awful commercials? We embodied every ounce of awfulness they inspired.
I only hung out with Robbie a handful of time. Each time was different. One he wasn't around for much of our stay. Once it was just the guys. One it was a larger group, guys and girls on St. Paddy's. Once it was the guys and my friend's girlfriend. Once was at a bar crawl in Boston. Once was at a Bar Crawl in NY. Once was at a party. Once was while I visited Boston with a girlfriend. A few times, that was it. We weren't close, but Robbie was a friend.
Robbie would give up his bed, so his cousin's wife didn't have to sleep with the Neanderthals. Robbie would take us to all the best places in Boston. For Robbie, those were places we'd fit in. Dive Bars. We'd eat and drink all day and the focus was always on the drink. Robbie could talk, which is why I liked him. He was a bright guy and was fun to be with. He's tell us a story, his eyes beaming, full of excitement and then we'd all laugh and ignore him. He'd take us to Faneuil Hall, Harvard Square and all over Boston pointing this and that out. He was a fountain of information.
On one occasion after downing way too many Scorpion Bowls, I ran down the flight of stairs at the well known Hong Kong's and into the street. I ran until I found a wall and pressed one hand against it proceeding to vomit all over the sidewalk. People passed by, commented on the wreck before them and made their way. In the middle of my endless regurgitation, I heard a voice. The vomit spewed from me like there was not tomorrow, but the low toned voice continued, "Do you know on this spot, Paul Revere..." I looked down and saw underneath the splatter of neon puke, a plaque built into the sidewalk. Robbie rambled on for another minute. I gathered myself and we walked back in. We walked home a few moments later and Robbie seemed chipper. I was miserable. Robbie couldn't stop talking about how I had run from a bar, across a street and chose that spot, a landmark, to get sick. He was utterly gleeful. That was Robbie.
Robbie's death didn't only remind my of the fragility of life, but also the moments we can never have back. a text from a friend reminded me, we all haven't made the effort to see each other. Another reminded me of simpler times. Better times. Robbie was a friend I hadn't seen or had contact with in years. I had no reason to be emotional, but I was. He was a good person and I keep losing good people.
I cried tonight for a few reasons. I cried because I lost a friend...a friend I just assumed I'd see again. I cried, because I remembered the times we had their, all of us laughing for days. I cried because of the people I've let slip away from my everyday lie. I cried, because I miss being able to run away for a weekend and just let go. I cried tonight, because the reality is, those times are behind me. Those times will never be again. Not with those same people. We all are at different points in our lives and we can't go or look back. We can all get together again, but it won't be the same. We're not the same. We're not the same and Robbie's not here to join us.
R.I.P. My friend
I met Robbie through my friend on a trip to Boston. We stayed in his one bedroom apartment and took over the living room, the hallways and where else we crashed on a drunken weekend. We at junk food, farted a lot and laughed our asses off. We got Robbie kicked out of his local bar on on other trips we got kicked out of quite a few places. We became famous, or infamous one trip as being the "Wassup" guys. Remember those awful commercials? We embodied every ounce of awfulness they inspired.
I only hung out with Robbie a handful of time. Each time was different. One he wasn't around for much of our stay. Once it was just the guys. One it was a larger group, guys and girls on St. Paddy's. Once it was the guys and my friend's girlfriend. Once was at a bar crawl in Boston. Once was at a Bar Crawl in NY. Once was at a party. Once was while I visited Boston with a girlfriend. A few times, that was it. We weren't close, but Robbie was a friend.
Robbie would give up his bed, so his cousin's wife didn't have to sleep with the Neanderthals. Robbie would take us to all the best places in Boston. For Robbie, those were places we'd fit in. Dive Bars. We'd eat and drink all day and the focus was always on the drink. Robbie could talk, which is why I liked him. He was a bright guy and was fun to be with. He's tell us a story, his eyes beaming, full of excitement and then we'd all laugh and ignore him. He'd take us to Faneuil Hall, Harvard Square and all over Boston pointing this and that out. He was a fountain of information.
On one occasion after downing way too many Scorpion Bowls, I ran down the flight of stairs at the well known Hong Kong's and into the street. I ran until I found a wall and pressed one hand against it proceeding to vomit all over the sidewalk. People passed by, commented on the wreck before them and made their way. In the middle of my endless regurgitation, I heard a voice. The vomit spewed from me like there was not tomorrow, but the low toned voice continued, "Do you know on this spot, Paul Revere..." I looked down and saw underneath the splatter of neon puke, a plaque built into the sidewalk. Robbie rambled on for another minute. I gathered myself and we walked back in. We walked home a few moments later and Robbie seemed chipper. I was miserable. Robbie couldn't stop talking about how I had run from a bar, across a street and chose that spot, a landmark, to get sick. He was utterly gleeful. That was Robbie.
Robbie's death didn't only remind my of the fragility of life, but also the moments we can never have back. a text from a friend reminded me, we all haven't made the effort to see each other. Another reminded me of simpler times. Better times. Robbie was a friend I hadn't seen or had contact with in years. I had no reason to be emotional, but I was. He was a good person and I keep losing good people.
I cried tonight for a few reasons. I cried because I lost a friend...a friend I just assumed I'd see again. I cried, because I remembered the times we had their, all of us laughing for days. I cried because of the people I've let slip away from my everyday lie. I cried, because I miss being able to run away for a weekend and just let go. I cried tonight, because the reality is, those times are behind me. Those times will never be again. Not with those same people. We all are at different points in our lives and we can't go or look back. We can all get together again, but it won't be the same. We're not the same. We're not the same and Robbie's not here to join us.
R.I.P. My friend
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