Ozzie's and Frontier Room did not disappoint. Here, in chronological order, are the top six things I heard other people say this weekend.
"Oops. He's 30."
Ozzie's has long had karaoke. Now they have rockaroke--karaoke with a live band--on Friday nights. It's awesome. I was there, drinking and watching and waiting for my turn to sing, when a guy's name was called and a group of dudes behind me exploded in shouts of "Happy birthday, man!" "Yeah, Dave! [or whatever his name was]". "The big [?]-0! Woo hoo!"
Which is fine. Totally acceptable, even if the shouts were drunken and partially unintelligible.
There was a group of women in front of me who had heard the shouts, too, and I could hear them talking about the guy who was going on stage, and their conversation went something like this:
Woman One: It's his birthday?"She likes dudes that know dudes."
Woman Two: I guess.
Woman One: How old is he?
Woman Two: I dunno. They yelled it but I couldn't understand. 40, maybe?
Woman Three: Yeah, I think so. He looks it.
Woman Two: Yeah, 40.
Woman One: Let me go ask them... [wanders over to the guy's group and comes back a moment later]
Woman Two: Well?
Woman One: Oops. He's 30.
Woman Three: Ouch.
I was ordering a drink at the bar and a weird-looking guy was talking to two women. I got my drink but had managed to not receive a straw, so I was looking around for a straw... and the weird-looking guy struck.
Weird-Looking Guy: Hey... hey!I dunno what he meant, but I wasn't about to stick around and find out.
Me: Uh... what?
WLG: [Pointing at a not-bad looking blond] Do you want to meet Leah?
Me: Um. Sure. Hi, Leah. I'm Ed.
WLG: She likes dudes that know dudes.
Me: What? Dudes that know tunes?
WLG: No. Dudes that know dudes.
Me: [Looking at Leah, who gives me an "I dunno wtf he's talking about" look.] Um. OK.
WLG: She's been telling me that... [blah blah blah]
Me: OK. Fantastic. [Turning to leave] Nice meeting you, Leah.
"Oops. I forgot my ring tonight!"
Part of what I prefer to do--especially at Ozzie's where there are so many things to do (two karaoke areas and a rockaroke stage)--is to keep moving. So I'm constantly battling through bottlenecks and crowds of people.
I worked my way past a group of three women, and I overheard one of them say, "Oops, I forgot my ring tonight!" and the other two giggle conspiratorially.
It's not my business. I don't know her fiancee/husband/whatever. I don't even know for sure that she meant a ring-ring. But I am pretty sure she was.
And that sort of thing disgusts me.
"Don't worry about it. They don't like vagina."
The next night I was at Frontier Room, and my nights at Frontier Room (especially when I go alone) are pretty formulaic:
- Have a couple of drinks at my place, listening to music (often The Records)
- Catch a bus and get to FR right before they start charging cover at 10:00
- Order a rum and diet from my bartender
- Chew gum and drink rum and diet and txt with friends until the dance floor warms up and the rum hits me
- Ease my way onto the dancefloor
- Avoid asshole guys and weird chicks as I attempt to move in a non-offensive fashion to the music
- Either catch a cab to Neighbour's or walk home
Also, between steps 4 and 7 I often am moving around, getting more booze and passively seeking interesting occurrences.
It was during step 4 that I noticed a couple of guys dancing on the dancefloor. They weren't alone--there were other people on the half-full dancefloor, too--but they appeared to be having a dance-off. They weren't taking it too seriously, and people were amused.
As one of them was making his response, a pair of women wandered up and started to talk/half-dance with him.
Now, I'm no expert either substantively or procedurally in terms of dance-offs (that's more of Thor's department) but even as a layperson I know that people shouldn't interrupt one of the participants.
Justifiably and understandably, then the guy shrugged the women off in order to continue the battle... and one of the women looked downcast and turned away. Her friend, nursing her friend's spirits with venom, explained to her, "Don't worry about it. They don't like vagina."
Effing chicks.
"Do you remember me?"
*tick tick tick*
When I was a kid, I understood I was pretty smart. I was considered smart by my teachers and family and I had test scores and grades to prove it. To what degree it was a big fish in a small pond thing or not is never clear, and how much one's capabilities are enhanced through mere assumption of the possession of capabilities isn't clear, either.
As I've aged, my confidence in my general aptitude has waned. Whether I'm more wise or less smart now doesn't matter. I know that my memory is not particularly great. I know that my intellectual rigor is ... not rigorous.
I don't think I'm stupid, of course. I just recognize my actual strengths: specifically, it's my ability to process information and respond to it more quickly than most people. Much more quickly than many, to be honest.
*tick tick tick*
So when I hear something, I usually get it. I don't need things repeated very often, and I usually can string together a response without too much effort. Whether it's a particularly good response or not is another question, but I rarely feel out to sea or dumbstruck.
*tick*
This helps me when I'm out at bars, because I can avoid unpleasant situations or talk myself into pleasant ones relatively easily. Last night, though, it felt like my one self-avowed strength of intellect had failed me when I was asked a very simple question:
"Do you remember me?"*tick tick tick*
She was a pretty blond. She looked familiar. She looked like someone I wanted to remember.
*tick*
But I had no response. I was trying to place her face, her hair, her boobs... something.
And I had nothing.
*tick*
I smiled at her and mumbled something... trying to buy time. I could see her smile slipping--almost imperceptibly, but slipping--and I could almost hear a clock.
*tick tick tick*
Smiling ... thinking ... taking her in with my eyes without moving them ... thinking ..
*tick tick*
*click*
Sweet. Got it.
"Sure. You're [her name]."Hugging ensued.
"You remember me! Yay!"
"You get to dance with two beautiful women!"
Sometimes I see things happen in real life and I imagine scenes from movies. Scenes that probably never happened in movies that may not even exist.
The hour was late at FR. Dancing was happening, and I was participating in my limited capacity. I'd carved out a nice little space where no aggro dudes were bumping into me (step 6) and was enjoying the music.
Earlier I'd bumped into Miss America, who was there with a group of people. She is adorable and fit and--like any adorable and fit woman on that dancefloor--seemed to have to spend more energy keeping guys off of her than in actually dancing. I don't know how women put up with it, man.
So... movie scene. I imagine a scene from a movie like Aliens or Starship Troopers where a group of people are retreating from a large mass of aliens. Aliens that want to eat and/or dismember them. The group is doomed if they all keep running, so one or two of the group turn to the others and say, "Go on without me! I'll try to hold them off!" and after a nod of acknowledgment and gratitude, the rest of the group flees, only looking back right before getting to safety... and seeing the brave individuals getting overrun/eaten/torn apart by the aliens. Going back would be suicide, so a tear is shed and the door is closed.
I imagined something like that after Miss America and her friend sidled up to me on the dancefloor, with Miss America saying, "You get to dance with two beautiful women!"
It was cool. She was going out of her way to be nice. I appreciated it.
But I'd forgotten about the aliens who wanted to rip her apart.
Within 13 seconds of her saying that to me, there was someone dancing up to her from behind. Within 45 seconds another guy was attached to her friend. Within 97 seconds they were being dude-swarmed. And there was nothing I could do. Going into a dude-swarm is suicide.
So I shed a tear and wandered over to a less male-infested part of the dancefloor.
Considered but not making the list:
From a female to me: "I can't stay out late or else my girlfriend gets pissed."
From a female to me: "Those guys have been staring at me all night."
From a female to me: "I won't punch you if you don't touch me."
From a jealous guy to me: "Douche."
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