The Halloween Drunk23:19 Nov 02 2008
Times Read: 794
So, I get to the club on Halloween to find a line growing outside. I was not the one driving that night, which turned out later to be a fantastic idea, so I promptly leaped from the car to insure my spot. They were at maximum capacity and had been for some time, so I had to wait for quite a while, inching ever closer to the door as person after person exited, excitedly insuring all us poor folks that it was well worth the wait.
I decided at that point to smoke a cigarette while I waited, much to the hack-and-cough dismay of the three men in front me whom were each dressed as some strange hybrid of clown and fairy princess ..a disturbing combination. Meanwhile, all sorts of random people are driving by yelling out from their car windows at some of the more enticingly dressed females in line. One such gentleman even found it in his heart to vomit in white and yellow globs(probably snot, cum, and ramen noodles) out the window as he was passing by, which I think is by far the most heart warming method of male courting I was to witness that evening. This made me a little tense, I think I may have started to sweat.
The boys in front of me are rubbing their scantily clad bodies together now in unison trying to convince passers by to take photos of them. While trying to fiddle with the camera, one drops his red foam nose on the ground, which obviously according to Murphy's Law, must fall squarely between my feet. Rather than have one of these goofs crawling between my thighs, which I swear he almost did, I quickly bent down and procured the ball ..handing it back to him. Not even a thank you came back, though I couldn't have cared less at the time. The line moves up a little farther, and I notice two kids dressed as Adam and Eve leaving. As they scuttled past me I was throughly amazed that this guy was able to keep his package from waving happily at the crowd behind those little leaves, and being the coiled serpent that I am, was even more disappointed that Eve didn't bust out of her costume, which her chest was just begging for, believe me.
The lady behind me starts smoking now and is rambling about her phone; I glance back and it's a Razor. Having had one of those demonic phones, I sympathize completely and tell her so. She then strikes up a little more of a conversation with me about her outfit, which is a plain black dress, and the horrors of trying to find a proper costume so late in the evening. I, myself, was dressed decently, though not really festively. I had on a long black coat, a fitted dress shirt and tie that I'd picked up from Von Maur earlier in the week, and average black shoes and slacks that I had just laying around. This is how I usually dress at the club, excluding the tie, so I was not glamorous, by any means, but a good shot better than some of those I would later meet. She draws out another cigarette, which inspires me to have another as well - the boys in front of me are coughing again. My phone rings and it's my friend Danni returning a call I'd made just minutes earlier, returning hers. She is out doing some things she says and just wonders what I'd be up to after getting out of the club. I tell her about the line and that since I have no idea when I'll get in, I can't make any predictions about when I'll get out, or how I'll feel afterwards. I state simply, "I'll probably be heading straight home afterwards." She acknowledges this, and wishes me a good evening - end of call. The girl behind me has been talking the whole time and once again turns to speak with me, I consider faking a call to put some social space between us, but I'm just too agitated about the line to screw with theatrics. "Are you feeling alright", she asks, .."You seem a little out of it". I turn and say that I'll be fine once I get to the bar, and that I've just had a long evening. The phone gives me an alert for a text message. It's a friend, already inside, that wants to know where I am. I'm just outside the door now, and the possibility of freedom from the street scene tastes like butterscotch in my head ..which I love, incidentally. I prepare to produce my license for the door man outside, which he promptly waves away, telling me to hold on - they are at capacity again. I think I grunted.
Ten or fifteen minutes later I am finally inside. Looking over the dance floor I can see that they've erected a double stage for the costume competition, and that there are probably only two spots I could dance on the floor still open, so long as I don't mind being humped by the parade of frat guys that seem to have found their way inside, and whom are drunk enough not to see the difference between Mike Tyson in drag and Halle Berry. Noting this, I sweep past the crowd straight to the upstairs bar. The bar is swamped, but it doesn't stop me from sliding in and taking hold for dear life like a rabid case of the crabs. I am definitely, perspiring now from the stress, I need a drink, and badly. The bartender comes over and I demand, yes - demand, two beers, for which I generously tipped him. I go downstairs out to the patio to see if there is anyone I know, of course there is, but no one I want to speak with. I down my beers and go over to bar outside. The bartender here is dressed in a Pee-wee Herman costume, with hair cut to match, and I perversely, can't help but feel mildly attracted to this. I order another beer, and decide to walk around the club some more to search for allies. I go to the door and some girl tells me I'm cute. She's a very pretty girl, blond even, and I can't remember the last time that happened; I am nowhere near in the mood for it though, so I thank her and move on. I have a decent buzz going on now and the people around me are more like mechanical people in a theme parks than people that I have any interest in talking with, which is a sure sign that I'm not drunk yet.
I can't find anyone so I go back onto the patio where I am immediately stopped by a girl dressed as some pop star that I don't give a damn about as she feels compelled to explain it to me. Her lipstick and giant breasts are probably the only interesting thing about her, but I humor the conversation as I really don't have much else going on. She then asks me what I am dressed as, and I tell her that I just got off work - which is a flat out lie. "Oh, come on now..", she says, "..anytime someone asks you that question you should make something up, say that you're a lawyer for instance, or a salesman, anything"! I think for a moment and say, "Okay, if I must be something, how about Gary Busey at a funeral, before cocaine?" "No. You just don't look enough like Gary Busey." I smile, and my internal monologue is running now, "..and you sure don't look like Amy Winehouse either, bitch." Suddenly, some tipsy fuckwit, as if by divine intervention, falls on his ass spilling his drink all over her dress. The look on her face is priceless, and I can't help but laugh out load about it. She looks at me indignantly, so I smile and walk away to the bar again.
I buy another drink, this time opting for German beer, and start to work on it. Some guy at the bar is talking to me now, and I am starting to feel very drunk - I guess I forgot to mention in this that I had been drinking even before getting to the club. Before I know it he's engaging me in a conversation about black holes, which he somehow managed to transition into a talk about the virtues of living the Christian life, while trying to get my phone number. Could this seriously be happening to me, and on Halloween of all days? I half expect Richard Simmons to walk up to me, pat me lovingly on the shoulder, and carefully explain to me, in gory detail, how I am his long lost son. I guess I'm ready for anything. Anyway, once I manage to maneuver away from this 40 year old Christer, I go down stairs to finish my drink. I really have to go to the bathroom by now, and I'm sort of stumbling down the stairs. The bouncers give me the eye of death, and I just nod drunkenly in their direction, as if to signal that I'm fine. Downstairs is bathed in a horrible glow of twenty or so black lights, and I hate black lights! Everyone in the hall seems to be wearing white but me, which I guess is why they are down there in the first place. I get into the bathroom and, of course, there is a line there as well. When I finally get the opportunity to relieve myself, I let my head land on the wall and rest against the cold brick. I am wasted.
Then I feel a presence, I can't yet determine what it is, so I open my eyes to look around. I didn't have to look far. Immediately to my left was a tall man, probably 6'4 or so, staring down at me while I'm all exposed, smiling. I quickly look away trying to pretend I don't notice, but it was too late. And then I hear it, "Hey, my name's Josh." I am on the verge of fracturing in my head, I close my eyes and all I can see are swirling colors which seem to be moving perfectly in unison with my distorted sense of balance. I close my pants up, ignoring the creep, and go back upstairs near the dance floor.
Upon getting there and realizing that I can barely walk now, it seems to make sense to get another drink ..so I do. I am leaning against the wall now, smoking, when I start bumping into people I know finally. They have cameras too and starting taking pictures of me, which as it turned out later, captured my bewildered expression so perfectly that I might just consider posting the photos up here one day as a supplement.
I am pretty tired of writing all this out right now, so to make a long story short, I got even more drunk, left the club, burned my mouth - which I didn't know until the next morning - on McDonald's fries, and woke up the next morning feeling like a woodpecker had made a home on my forehead while I slept. Some guy dressed as Edward Scissorhands won the costume contest, if anyone cares to know. There is no moral to the story, at least not one I care to expound upon, and that'll have to be it for now.
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