Thursday, August 30, 2012

Do Over: On My Sunday Night

Some people who read my blog may have a good idea of what I'm like through either knowing me personally or through reading my posts. The rest don't have a great idea. I have a story from a recent night which I feel sums me up pretty damn well. It takes place at an event called Do Over. I don't know how to describe it other than a big drunken mess with lots of dancing and mash up music. I went with friends to celebrate one of their birthdays.

The first event that took place, worth noting, we were dancing. Of course! We're at a place where they serve over-priced drinks and hip-hop music is playing...of course all the fools there will be dancing. You can tell I'm obviously a BIG FAN of dancing and drinking in public. Quite the opposite, unless I'm drunk enough. But I'm the designated driver so I can't get too drunk...and am making the best of the situation. I'm not so against this that I can't have a good time. I'm with my friends and we're laughing and what not. And I'm feeling a little tipsy, so I bust out the stupid dance moves. The ones that aren't true dance moves but rather body movements to music paired with a mouth trying to sing the lyrics simultaneously. That's how I dance. Anyway, everyone is walking past, it's crowded as hell so many people are bumping our shoulders. We participate in some people watching, so we take notice of the patrons on their way by and make comments when there are good comments to make. Then, as a bouncer strolls by with his flashlight out, scanning the floor for broken glass and what not, I take notice. This guy is huge, as all bouncers are. I'm not saying he's bigger than most, he's just as big as you'd imagine. He seems to be...not a firm believer in keeping the flashlight in one general area. He goes with the...move it real fast everywhere approach. I don't think it works as it does not concentrate light on a specified area for long enough, the eyes don't have enough time to register what the light is being shone on. But what do I know? I'm not a bouncer, I haven't been trained on the art of using a flashlight. So, he strolls by, flashing the thing every which way, and it looks like a strobe light. So, I decide to yell out "Strobe Light!" as he walks by. Everyone I'm with laughs, but as it is super duper loud in this place, he doesn't hear me but sees me talking about him and everyone laugh. So, he asks what I said, clearly pissed. I have to repeat myself three times before he hears me and even when he hears me, he does not seem any happier. He stares me down as he nods, finally understanding my lame joke.

Great job Steve. Creating an awkward situation where it seems as if you are antagonizing the very large bouncer. Luckily, I wasn't struck or thrown out. But not too much later, as we are still dancing, another situation arises. Some guy is dancing directly behind me. I don't know who he is and he is facing away from me and towards his own group of people. He's clearly wasted and drinking a Corona. Again, the place being so loud, is a curse. I see him quickly jolt forward, facing his head down towards the ground. Immediately after I feel liquid splash onto my ankles from behind. It has clearly come from him. Did he just puke? Or did he spit his beer out? How do I decide to check? I wipe my ankle off a little and smell my fingers. Yeah, I was a little drunk at this point. I can't quite smell as it mainly smells like alcohol. A friend looks at me and asks me what I'm doing. I explain the situation to her and as she looks behind me at the puddle on the floor her facial expression changes to horrified. "There's chunks in that puddle," she says, mortified. Well, if anything could sober you up faster than that situation or 10 hours passing let me know, because that method is pretty fucking awesome and quick!

Grossed out I walk to the bathroom. Correction: I speed walk...almost out my fucking shoes! Of course this happened to me. I get to the bathroom and OF COURSE OF COURSE OF COURSE there is a bathroom attendant at this place. The job I despise more than any other on Earth! No need for this man's job to exist. Sorry bud, but I can turn the sink on and grab paper towels easily enough on my own. Also, if I wanted to smell like cologne I would have put it on before leaving my domecile. Also also, candy?! Are you fucking serious?! So, now I just need wet paper towels for my ankles...and to wash my hands promptly after. But who is in charge of the paper towels in the bathroom? The god damn bathroom attendant! Come on! I can't just grab these for myself? I have to ask for them? Yup, I really do have to ask for paper towels. Because he only hands them to people who are washing their hands, everyone else must ask. So, I do, when he gives me a puzzling look for just standing directly in front of him. "Can I have some paper towels?" I don't even wait for him to ask why. "Someone puked on my ankles." Quite aware everyone else heard me in the crowded men's swamp of a bathroom, I don't care. He nods and hands me a few, I wet them myself, wipe my ankles off awkwardly (as if there's a normal way to do it and I just chose not to) and then proceed to wash my hands. I ignore the eyes I feel burning through me, mainly my lower leg region, and exit the bathroom once I'm done. NO TIP! Because you don't deserve a tip for doing something I don't need you to do for me, don't want you to do for me, and hate that I had to ask you to do for me because it then required me to announce in front of 10 strangers I currently have vomit below my calves!

And of course, this all happened within the span of about 20 minutes. That was my experience at the Do Over. How would I do it over? Hmmm, maybe not ever talk to bouncers, wear galoshes, and also a diaper so I can pee in it at any point of the night and not have to visit the horrible, awful, terrible bathrooms at clubs. I hate them so much! So, maybe if you didn't have a good idea of who I am and how I operate and what my life is like...maybe you have a better idea now. Maybe the picture is more clear. That was 20 minutes of my life. Just 20. Wanna spend any time in my shoes? No, probably not, because you're still wondering if I checked them for barf. I did, don't worry!

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