Is it time for a mid life crisis yet?

Ahhh, the weekend. No work, no driving, all rock and roll and booze and parties and movies and skating and knitting clubs and...you get the drift. It's when we can be "me" and not "that guy that looks like me but trudges to and fro to bring home the scraps of bacon." Had a friend ask me to go out with him to see Michael Schenker, he of the UFO fame, on Thursday night. I graciously bowed out citing monetary concerns, and in actuality was thinking, but it's not the weekend yet. I know, lame. I really didn't want to plop down the $30, and my Friday night was going to be huge, so I didn't need some crazy Thursday night shenanigans messing up my weekend.

So there I found myself, bottle of wine, remote control, flipping between the Bulls and the Blackhawks, you know, partying hard. It was only when I awoke at approximately 12:30 that I realized I had no memory whatsoever of the second half and/or third period of said games. Yes, looking forward all week to my Friday night, and I was out cold by 7:30.

Now sometimes, I find lately that as the sandman robs me of my Friday night, I will wake back up, and watch some movie that I have seen 10 times before, in a vain attempt to reclaim my lost evening. But last night, I gave in, and went to bed. Hence at 4:45, as I tossed and turned trying unsuccessfully to fall back asleep, I did the math, and figured I had been asleep for nearly 9 hours. What self respecting 48 year old actually sleeps for 9 hours? I tried for a little early morning nookie with the wife, but apparently "5am" and "nookie" are teenage folly. So I got up.

Whew! All that partying takes the wind out of your sails, right? Not like in my carefree youth when wrapping up an all night session of D & D (Dungeons and Dragons for all you non-nerds) at 4:00 or so. Followed by a trip to Denny's for some steak and eggs or the like. Yea we partied like rock stars and we knew it. But seriously, somewhere between college and waking up one morning to find that you're the dad of two brooding young teens, what the hell happened? Please don't say it to my face, but yes, I have become my parents. The old folks who stay in on the weekend.

OK, truth or dare? Truth. I manage to keep somewhat active playing in, at last count, the vestiges of 4 bands. At some point over the summer, I will no doubt have a busy schedule of playing nearly every weekend, bringing home a few bucks so that it actually qualifies as my second job. I'll be, for at least a fleeting moment, the Rawk Gawd I had always dreamed of being, staying up until 1 or 2. And it is at that moment of the night, when you're packing in your gear, and the last vestiges of your friends are sucking down the last beer of the night you realize one sobering thought: these peeps came out to have fun, party to some rock and roll, and get hammered. How do they do it? If not for the band, I would be asleep on the couch, remote falling from my hand to the floor, slight drizzle of drool dripping from the corner of my mouth. Well, I guess there is always Saturday night. Now all I need is a couple of Red Bulls and some Viagra and I'm golden.