I'm writing in a state of rather severe intoxication, which might result in some typographical errors but is almost certain to result in a more transparent communication of the weirdness that help fill in the gaps of my life between sleep and work and porn viewing.
Tonight was a Friday night. I didn't have plans, and the guys I usually hang out with had other plans (F-Bomb presumably was with the future Mrs. F-Bomb and TM2000 was with a group of people that I no long hang with). I got home from work and the gym about 5:30 and played some Civ IV and ate some leftover pizza and took a nap.
The alarm went off at 8:00 PM. I was confused, as I heard the alarm, regarding where I was and why I was being awakened.
It was like my life distilled down to its essence.
Since I had no plans, I turned off my alarm and rolled back over to go to sleep.
No dice.
I decided that I could hang out on my own Friday night. I could put away clothes that had piled up and do laundry that had piled up and do situps to counter the chubby stomach that had piled up... but I decided to wander to Ozzie's.
So I took a shower. I put on a rather subdued outfit that had, as its sole bit of flare, a red patent leather belt that I had bought for my Adam Lambert Halloween costume. As it turns out, no one saw it all night, but (A) it fits better now than it did last October (gym participation ftw!) and (B) I was a bit worried that I was wearing it for the same reason some guys wear womens' underwear.
In any event, Ozzie's was fine. It was an odd night and I was pestered by a Nebraskan Amazon, but .... whatever. The reason I am writing this long prologue is due to what happened after closing.Let me say this: with the exception of January 2008, when I am within a bar I feel pretty safe. I recognize that I am a terrible fighter and that if it came to a real brawl I'd lose teeth and an eye and maybe a toe or two. Within most bars, I play it cool and trust that security will limit the ridiculousness of the assholes who want to fight.
Outside of bars is often more interesting, unfortunately, than inside them. After closing everyone pours out (eff me... it took four tries to type "pours"... it was "ous" and then "pusaja" and then "pous" before "pours") and people are all more... equal. It's weird. The power dynamic between men and women levels out and anything can happen.
Of course, the downside of this is that ... anything can happen. There is security, but someone can take out a tooth or an eye or a toe or two before anyone can do anything. Also, I've seen American History X. Curb-stomping is scary shit.
Somehow I'm surrounded by dudes. Not guys I know, but guys who are willing to talk to women. So I stand there and listen. There's a woman with an umbrella and she talks about how she's not from Washington... she's from California. I'm from California so I pay attention and it almost gets me knocked out.
How is that? Because about 20 minutes later I've moved a half-block away to get away from the dude-bro's and drunk women who want to go home with them and/or punch them in the neck and then act like they shouldn't be punch back because they're chicks.
So. I got some space. I'm txting TM2000. I'm waiting for (ideally) the rain to let up, even though I only have two blocks to walk to my apartment.
Who should stumble by me but the chick who was born in California. She has an umbrella and I'm tired of being wet so we have this conversation:
Me: You're from California?At that point I got under her umbrella with her. It wasn't a small umbrella. There was no touching. I was just slightly less drenched due to her kindness.
Her: Yes! I hate the rain!
Me: I'm originally from California, too.
Her: Oh, yeah? Where?
Me: A naval air station in Hanford.
Her: Hanford? Yeah. I know that. I'm from Oakhurst.
Me: Really?
Her: Yes. You've heard of it?
Me: Totally. My grandmother and aunt lived there when I was young; I visited there a few times.
Her: Really? Cool. You wanna get under my umbrella with me?
Me: Uh, sure. But I'm sure that your boyfriend would not approve. [Note: I didn't know she had a boyfriend. It was a test.]
Her: He's over there. He's cool. It'll be fine.
Me: OK. Uh. I guess.
Of course, no good deed goes unpunished. She and I were talking about her hometown when suddenly a guy cruised up.
He was short and he was very pale/redhead and he had a VERY short haircut.
He was also this chick's boyfriend.
We had this conversation. It was awesome.
Him: Dude. I'm gonna knock you out.It was bizarre. I don't see how they could have legitimately been on such different wavelengths, but I don't understand why she would keep pursuing me as he's threatening to pummel me.
Her: Haha. He's kidding.
Me: What?
Him: If you don't leave right now, I will drop you.
Me: What?
Her: He's kidding.
Me: Is this your boyfriend?
Her: Yes. He's cool.
Him: I'm not fucking around. I will punch you in the fucking face.
Me: (Backing up.) Dude. It's cool.
Her: Haha! He's funny.
Me: Are you kidding?
Him: No. I will knock you out.
Me: (Backing up.) OK. It's cool.
Her: (Advancing, grabbing my forearm.) He's TOTALLY kidding. Isn't he funny?
Me: ...
Him: Seriously. Leave.
Me: I'm waiting for a friend. (A lie.)
Her: (To me) He's just joking. Don't worry.
Him: I'm not joking.
Me: OK. Byebye.
Her: No! He's kidding!
Him: No I'm not.
Yes, he was shorter than I was.
Yes, I am not a gelatinous tub of goo.
But I don't know how to fight and I am the first person to admit it. There's no way I was about to stand my ground and call him and his girlfriend out as being totally ridiculous.
So I stepped out from under the cover and into the rain. I waited for them to stagger off and I set off for home.
It was an odd night. But I have all my toes/eyes/teeth, so I consider it to be a success.
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