A holiday poem: ’Twas the night before Saturday

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In honor of the holiday season, I wanted to do something special for this week’s column — a Queen City twist on a classic Christmas poem, with a touch, no, actually a lot of holiday wine and spirits. Grab some eggnog, cozy up to a fire and enjoy.

’Twas the night before Saturday, and I was tired as can be,
didn’t want to do anything, it was sad even for me.
But still I got ready, with little to no care
in hopes that my Uber soon would be there.

I envisioned myself all snuggled in bed,
with visions of funemployment dancing in my head,
a Netflix series on repeat and me donning a cap;
I could definitely go for a long winter’s nap.

When all of a sudden, my phone made a noise;
I had to answer it, I had not one choice.
It was my driver and cancelling could lead to a fee,
so I chugged my last drink and looked for my key.

The porches of neighbors all decorative and bright,
I looked for the blinking of Honda’s headlights.
This was my sign that my ride was here,
I jumped in the car, wishing I’d snuck a beer.

He was a little old driver and driving too quick,
I thought of my pregame, and thought, “I’m gonna be sick.”
More quickly than expected, the city streets came,
to avoid being car sick, I called them by name:

“Now, South! Now East! Now I-277!
On Kings! on Central!” — should have stopped at 7-Eleven.
Finally we arrived at my dear best friend’s spot,
And, of course, she started pushing shot after shot.

We decided on 5Church ’cause we wanted to be classy,
hoping to meet sexy singles, we avoided getting trashy.
Instead, we were surrounded by lots of married peeps.
Alas, we ordered champagne and a couple “pretty” drinks.

We took a couple pics so we had some proof,
and then, in a twinkling, we ran to Tin Roof,
where the drink specials and live music are always great,
down the hatch with the shots — was this No. 8?

Again, no potential hotties, I guess that’s the theme,
but at least I was with my girls, my Queen City team.
We stumbled our way through the EpiCentre to Suite,
where if you’re tired of country, you’ll find a nice beat.

There seemed to be more cuties, but, then again, this was shot 10.
I needed some fresh air before I was in the bathroom again.
Just when I was about to hit the balcony for a seat,
on came the reggae, and I couldn’t stop moving my feet.

Of course, while I was dancing, there were an unwanted few
who thought I was interested — “I’m just not that into you.”
That’s when I grabbed a friend to dance with me,
(and that’s how you know you’ve got a true P.I.C.).

Waiting for the bathroom, why is there always a line?
Is it too late for Libretto’s Pizza? Quick, check the time!
Distracted by drunk texts and then it was finally my turn,
locking the bathroom, I realize, I have to beat the surge!

That’s when Uber prices go up, and it happens around 2:10.
As I got in the car, I thought, chicken-flavored ramen again.
We spoke not a word, as the Queen City fell away,
and when I walked in my apartment, I sighed. “Man, what a day.”

I sprang in my bed, but not to get busy.
“Here comes the nausea,” as I started to get dizzy.
With one foot on the floor, I held on tight —
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

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