|Posted on March 25, 2012 at 3:55 PM|
I should have been working on a project last night, but decided instead to accompany a friend and a friend of said friend to a local tavern for a cocktail or two. Now I'm not much of a drinker – one beer makes me nappish, but from time to time I do enjoy an adult beverage or two. I've never been a fan of dance clubs, even when I was of clubbin' age, mostly because I can't dance but also because music that consists entirely of "BOOM-TSS, BOOM-TSS, BOOM-TSS" makes me want to break a bottle and stab myself in the ears. No, when I'm at a bar I like to sit and chat with the people I came with. The place we went to was a bar we'd been to before, but it was under new ownership and recently remodeled to resemble a biker/cowboy joint. It'll probably be a fun dive in a few months, but since it's still new it was wall-to-wall people last night.
I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that every college student within 500 miles was there last night. Being the old person that I am, I secretly hoped that the Fire Marshall would show up. "It couldn't have been that bad" I hear you say. Oh really? I got to second base 32 times walking from our table to the bathroom – with both sexes, so it's good that I'm a Democrat. The friend of my friend's who we were there with was bouncing around like her ass was built entirely out of Mexican jumping beans and she apparently was on a first name basis with everyone. When did drinking start requiring so much activity? It's also never a good idea to go to a bar at 11:00 PM on a Saturday night completely sober since even the pretty drunks look like they've taken a few licks from the stupid stick.
You guys are gonna have all the sex
When I turned 21 a decade and a half ago I lived in a town with 600 residents which was 10 miles from the local metropolis - a town with a whopping 5,000 people in it. This means that after two nights of drinking you would know every person of legal "let's get pissed" age in the county. Folks would get into fights and then find themselves sharing a pitcher of beer an hour later. I once saw a guy pick a fight with his roommate, punch himself in the face to prove how willing he was to take a beating, exchange shoves and end everything minutes later with I-love-you-man's all around. It was all a bit rednecky, but not nearly as exhausting as watching the people last night try to get laid without looking like they're trying to get laid.
It was too loud to talk to anyone so I let my mind wander and came to a frightening realization: If the zombie apocalypse started right then and there, my chances of survival would not be good. This bothered me since I consider my odds of making it successfully through the inevitable rise of the dead much better than average, not because I have any special survival skills, but because I will be the first to recognize a zombie when I see one. When I come across my first corpsified person trying to gnaw on a passerby, it'll be on like Donkey Kong – no wondering what's wrong with them or if there's a cure, just looting and kill or be eaten. The flipside to this is that if I ever encounter a rabies victim while out for a stroll there's a chance I could be responsible for some serious collateral damage, but them's the breaks.
Let's DO THIS!
Categories: People and Culture