Friday the 13th

(WARNING: LONG POST)


Last night was one of THOSE nights that made you both laugh, cringe and shake your head. One for the ages and of course, I didn't have my camera to document it all (NOTE TO SELF: bring the camera with you at all times).

The evening started out slowly with the Happy Hour being sparse but ironically enough, top-heavy with hot chicks. No complaints here. At around 7:45pm, the Met fans began to trickle in and take their places around the bar. There's a particular group of Met fans who met at one of the playoff games, hit it off and now meet at the bar for every playoff game. They are a pretty vocal, yet fun bunch of fans who really get into the games. They hang out in the back of the bar, by the big screen TV and are a harmless, fun group.

So as the game began, the bar fills up rapidly and next thing you know, the place is packed. Everyone's into the game and having a good time. Next thing you know, I am approached by one of the female members of the group, a regular of the bar. She tells me that a patron was bothering them. So I go over to where they were and there's this guy sitting amongst the group. At his feet was the remains of a spilled drink. He's talking to one of the members of the group, who by the look on his face, had no interest in having a conversation with him. I can see right away that this guy has had too much to drink or is on something else and needed to be cut off. I kinda felt bad for the guy b/c he's a neighborhood guy and is generally harmless, but tonight was one of those nights and he needed to be cut off.

So I go to get the guy to leave and of course, he doesn't understand why he has to leave (they never do when they are clearly intoxicated). As I am escorting him out, he stumbles and falls in the middle of the floor. Oy vey. I finally get him outside and he's pleading with me to let him back in and that it's a misunderstanding. I explain to him why he was escorted out, that it wasn't a personal thing (because they always take it personal- as if you have it out for them), that he simply had enough. This was during the bottom of the 1st inning.

Six innings later, the guy is still pestering me to get in, begging, pleading, doing everything possible to get back inside. He even tried to climb in the front window. He was becoming THAT GUY (you know, the annoying drunk who doesn't know when to say when). At one point, he went home, came back with his bulldog and tried to come in the bar with it. I actually wanted to let the dog in and keep him out. Finally, he gave up and staggered home (around the 8th inning). Something should have told me right there and then that it was going to be one of those nights....

(commercial break)

"4 FOR 4" FRIDAYS ($4.00, all beers, mixed well drinks and house wine for "4" hours, starting at "4" pm).

(back to the story)


By this time, the METS are on the verge of winning and the fans at the bar are going nuts. When the final out is registered, the place erupts and everyone is happy. Woo-hoo! We put on some music and everyone is celebrating. There's a group of Frat guys hanging out in the middle of the bar (friends of SEXY BLONDE), and they began to goof around, dancing to cheezy Kelly Clarkson songs. Innocent stuff. At the same time, AMERICAN PSYCHO and JON CUSACK are hanging out by the window side of the bar, chatting it up with a group of chicks. One of the ladies was married (who, by the way, was showing off a prototype of an invention she's planning on marketing: a vibrating perfume bottle, shaped like a dildo. Shocking but true); another was a blonde number (hot body, face- ehh) and of course the third wheel was the plain Jane (Every group of girls has one).

Next thing you know, the Blonde Number jumps up from the table and throws herself right in the middle of the dancing Frat guys and starts doing a dirty-dance with them. The place goes crazy! She takes one guy in particular and rips his shirt open and begins to do some Shakira-based sensual number and he follows her lead. This goes on for a couple of songs and next thing you know, he rips her shirt open! There they are, both dancing with ripped shirts and everyone is like "WTF?" AMERICAN PSYCHO is particularly chagrined by all this because he'd been putting in time with this number and all of his efforts is about to sail off the dance floor with another guy. So what does he do? The next song turns out to be a Michael Jackson number and he grabs the Blonde Number and they begin doing a cheezy "Beat-It" type of dance (picture a combination of Michael Flatley's Riverdance and Bart Simpson). Cheezy but effective as he has regained this girl's attention. The girl ends up playing ping-pong between AP and the Frat Guy for about a half hour.

By this time, DIRTY SANCHEZ and SILENT BOB arrive and they are both feeling no pain, having just returned from the METS game. Usually when they arrive in this state, that doesn't bode well for anyone that knows them as they are usually in a mischievous mood. Of course, they don't disappoint, as they try to stir the pot for AP and JON CUSACK, with comical results. The Blonde Number, at this point, ends up going outside with Frat Boy and next thing you know, they are making out, right in front of the bar. Looks like a victory for the Frats as he ends up with the girl..... for the moment. Fate then rears its ugly head. A friend of the Frat Boy goes to the front window and began to tease Frat Boy while he's in his makeout session. Frat Boy looks up and punches the window, to get his friend to leave. However, in is attempt to "shoo" his boy away, he ends up punching out a hole in the window! DEJA VU again as we just had the window replaced from some idiot punching it out the night before. WTF!!!

That incident obviously sobered him up as he was more concerned with what he had done as opposed to the makeout session he was having minutes earlier. So while he was tending to his hand and to the business of paying for the window he'd just smashed, AMERICAN PSYCHO seized his opportunity and whisked the Blonde Number away and put on the full court press. When the smoke finally cleared and most of the patrons left (we're at around 2:30-3am at this point), AMERICAN PSYCHO emerged from the basement of the bar with the Blonde Number, clearly the winner of the poon-tang sweepstakes. I guess the story of the Tortoise and the Hare came through again in this instance. It's not how you start, it's how you finish I guess.

So by the end of the night, we had laughter, moments that made you cringe, moments that made you shake your head and yet even moments that left you speechless. What a night to not have my camera. You had to be there to believe it. I'm sure I probably left out a lot of details (hey, I'm only one person), so if you were in attendance at some point last night, feel free to fill in the blanks.


NUFF SAID