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I've never really been considered a "regular" anywhere (you know, a "regular" at a restaurant, pool hall, bar, etc). Partially because I've never had the time to commit to going to the same place all the time, and partially because I've never had the desire to. But all that changed today, at, of all places, Bojangles fast food restaurant.

Since I moved down to North Carolina, I've been going to this specific Bojangles restaurant fairly often on my way to work. They don't have Bojangles in the north and I really like their spicy chicken sandwiches and biscuits (and their coffee isn't half bad, either).

So anyway, for $3.71 a day, I can grab a cajun filet biscuit and a large coffee on my way to work, without driving out of my way or waiting in a long line. I'm usually back in my car and on the road within minutes, but that doesn't mean I haven't left a "lasting" impression on some of the people who work there.

One of the guys there (Jamel) started to recognize me in the mornings, and said hi to me every day, and pretty soon all the employees working the register recognized me by face (or when I'm wearing my packer hat, recognize me by hat). I started to get a little preferential treatment in some cases (pushing my small order ahead of large orders, even if they had also ordered the same sandwich). But it wasn't until today that Jamel knew exactly what I was going to order and entered it into the register without me having to say a word. So now, there are no two doubts about it, I'm officially a regular at the Bojangles of Harrisburg…at least for a few short minutes in the morning. Not my ideal place to be a regular, but hey, everyone's gotta start somewhere, right? Now I just need to move my way up to being a regular at the main dining establishment in Trump tower….

Well, tonight was a big flop. Not only did I not participate in NaDruWriNi (National Drunken Writing Night, for those not in the loop), I didn't get to participate in the activities I squandered my precious drunken writing time for in the first place.

See, my wife and I are looking to have a second child. And she's fertile. And she's all up on scheduling sex to ensure we hit the fertile period. And Saturday night was the first night of the month to try. And she had planned an adults' night out with her sisters and their spouses. And she didn't want me to drink much so we could make sure to have sex.

So I volunteered to be the DD. And I expected to have a couple beers, lay off and by the end of dinner (when I expected we'd be going home), I'd be straight-sober and ready for the drive…and all subsequent activities. But when my wife and everyone else started to intersperse shots with their pitchers of beer, and decided to wait a whole hour and a half at our restaurant JUST TO SEE THE START OF THE KARAOKE, and then decided to stay for 3 more hours so they could get in queue to sing a song that they didn't know half the words to, things went downhill. I recall early on in the evening that someone brought up the idea of going to play pool instead of hanging out at the restaurant all night, which I heartily endorsed. But then the next pitcher of beer came and the thought was forgotten/dropped, and I didn't bring it back up to spoil what was obviously an enjoyable time for those folks partaking of the alcoholic libations.

Anyway, I was bored out of my mind, didn't feel much like talking to anyone (especially after inebriation set in), and was getting a headache from the smoke (did I mention that 3 of my wife's family smoke, even though it is obviously causing health problems for them?) and the loud noise. But I figured I'd be a good sport and wait it out.

So come midnight, we shuffle/stumble/trip/hop/dance out of the restaurant and my wife starts to feel ill. Suddenly. So a speedy drive to drop off her family turns into a speedy drive to our house, so she can go get sick in her own toilet, followed by my shuttle service to each of the other houses, a trip to the gas station (dangerously low), and a final arrival at our house just in time to catch my wife slipping into a drunken sleep, from which she will wake multiple times this evening in her restless state, cursing the booze that did this to her and avowing it will not happen next time (until next time comes, that is). Let's just hope the baby doesn't get up too often tonight…

Yes, I shouldn't be too bitter. I did have some enjoyable bits in the evening. Listening to someone sing "Bodies" by Drowning Pool and getting all the screaming parts down pat was pretty damn cool. But overall, I just didn't have the time I thought I was going to have, and it makes me a little bit hesitant to want to ever volunteer to be a DD again. I'd rather be safe than sorry, of course, but maybe next time I am feeling like I did tonight, I'll just volunteer to come back and pick everyone up when they're ready to go. It'll save me some hours where I'm wishing I was somewhere else, and everyone else should be having a little more fun knowing that everyone sitting at the table is having just as much fun as they are.