(Short for Rambunctious)
- Rowdy; turbulently noisy, energetic, cheerful (usually of a person, event or behavior)
- Difficult to control or handle
How I encountered this word:
Yestereve, my friend Mary and I decided it would be a nice summertime activity to make Pina Coladas and enjoy the warm July air from her front stoop. We set out to the grocery store to get the necessary accoutrements for the rum already in the cabinet and upon our return made a blender-full of the delicious adult beverage.
Well, one beverage turned into ten. Which turned into crashing the next block over’s block party, already well in progress. Which turned into being the last women standing at the block party and subsequently making friends with a gay man who insisted he wasn’t gay, and swapping phone numbers so we could hang out and watch reruns of Sex in the City together in the future. Which then, upon our return to the house, turned into a 1:00am dance party in Mary’s living room. Which then sparked the idea to go dancing at the afterhours club in the Gayborhood. Which then turned into a shot of Jagermeister because we wanted to spend as little money at this overpriced club as possible.
A quick costume change and shot #2 later (for good luck, of course) we headed out. We unexpectedly ran into some old friends visiting from NYC and, naturally, sat on their stoop long enough to catch up, have a beer and just one more shot (bottom shelf vodka this time).
Tromping up the late-night city streets, we finally made it to our destination. When we were informed the cost of admission was 25 dollars a head, we danced in the lobby for a short while with the other cover-charge protesters before exiting the venue.
It was my bright idea to head to another, less classy, afterhours joint in a slightly less affluent section of the city. We grabbed the Protestors by the hand, hopped into a cab and headed South.
Because the cab had not dropped us off exactly where requested, we found ourselves turned around and not sure which direction to head to get to the speakeasy. We roamed the less-than-desirable neighborhood for several minutes before finding the speakeasy’s door, thanks to the GPS on our phones.
In our excitement, we had neglected to take into account that it was, in fact, Sunday and the speakeasy was closed.
Upon our retreat, we picked up another crew of stragglers who had had the same idea as us, surely saving them the disappointment that was to follow once they too reached the locked door. One of these Stragglers noted that there was yet another afterhours club, this time a little further into the less-than-desirable neighborhood.
Slightly nervous about wandering this particular area of town, our fears were quelled when the head Straggler affirmed there was “strength in numbers”. Thusly, the nine of us set off into the ghetto.
Unfortunately, this club was also closed. Heads hanging low, we all agreed to abandon this expedition and head out to a safer location. Splitting up, the Stragglers headed south; Mary, myself and the Protestors headed east.
Ready to shake the Protestors and head home, we gave the cursory, “well, the night owl bus should pick you up right here. It comes pretty often, but I don’t know more than that. I guess this is where we part ways. Bye!”
While the Protestors were still trying to figure out my vague directions and before they could… well, protest, Mary and I were gone.
We decided that our rumbling bellies deserved some nourishment after this unsuccessful attempt to go dancing. We strolled up to the all-night cheesesteak joint and got ourselves each a heaping portion of cheese fries. Silence fell upon us as we stuffed our mouths full of fried tubers drenched in gooey, orange deliciousness.
We drew the night to a close as we walked each other home, bidding farewell only until the morning when I would drop by to pick up some items I had left at Mary’s house earlier.
And with that, I slipped into bed at 5:30am, just in time to watch the sun rise from behind closed eyelids.
The next day, reconvening at Mary’s pad, we were drinking water and watching our dogs wrestle in the living room. Discussing the debauchery from the night previous, I noted, “the course of events probably got rolling around the 5th drink or so, when we started getting rammy. It was pretty much all over from that point on.”
Wanna keep living vicariously through Messie Jessie and her adventures? Well then, you know what to do!
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