Shenanigans In The Making

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story details the night of my 21st birthday! In a true Tucker Max style of writing.

Submitted: November 05, 2011

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Submitted: November 05, 2011

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It had been a long few weeks awaiting the upcoming social event of my life: my 21st birthday. Now being in the field for these weeks had made the extensive wait feel like even more of an eternity; but alas, I would handle it just fine seeing as how I’m not much of a drinker to begin with… Or so I thought.

Me and my roommate, who I will call “Mike”, started the night off a little early, each pounding a beer before our cab arrived post-haste. We arrived at the hippest local bar in town, the “Mine Shaft”. It would have been a fitting name for a bar, except the fact that there hasn’t been a working mine in Yuma in a hundred years, fucking idiots. Now this bar in no way resembles a mine shaft, the interior designers thought it would be funny to cover the walls with stupid posters only the general population of morons and dimwits would find interesting. As we walked in my ears were introduced, rudely, with a horrible cover of a Lynard Skynard song, how cliché… I quickly realize I will need a lot of alcohol to turn the downward tide of this night in my favor, and Mike quickly agrees. So far: Bar-1 Dustin-0

It quickly hits me that Mike and I need to find our friends who were in fact celebrating MY birthday party. Who am I to deny them my presence? With our newly founded state of mind we make our way to the indoor bar first. The bartenders are decrepit older hags who call the younger gentlemen such as me “sweetheart”. This makes me sick. I would rather fellate a hot curling iron than be subjected to a bitch as old as my grandmother calling me “sweetheart”, in all seriousness, ever again. Bar-2 Dustin-0

With pitcher of beer and a stiff vodka-red bull in tow, we make our way to the outside bar to find our friends. Navigating our way through a sea of brown, we quickly spot an island of white. These gentlemen have to be our friends. Together we’ve now teamed up with “Tony” “Kaspr” “Red” “Lego” “Ski” and “Sonny”, and are greeted with shots. Shots of Patron. I was quickly introduced to the “21 Birthday Shots” tradition. Now knowing myself and how 21 shots would put me in the hospital, Tony, Kaspr and myself decide to split the 21 between us. Best decision I made that night. Anyways the server is ugly as sin, so I quickly take my drink, force a half-hearted smile and turn back around in my chair. Kaspr quickly insults my drinking intelligence by asking if I know how to take the shot. This starts an epic backlash of beer chugging and shot taking to prove my masculinity. I am impressed with myself. Although this was not even close to the worst decision I made that night, it’s up there. It’s now 10pm and I’m getting pretty drunk, pretty fast. The next round of drinks come and id been dry for a while so the exchange went like this:

Me: I understand were not the only people in this bar, but it doesn’t take 20 minutes to get 3 Vegas bombs on a platter..

UglyServer: That was rude!

ME: I’m not here to make friends.

She leaves, we laugh. Bar-2 Dustin-1

It’s now 11pm and the bar is chalk full of people. People EVERYWHERE. I could hardly believe that this, or any bar in this town, could get packed to capacity. The ragtag group I’m with is hitting on everything with tits in sight. It’s quite comical to watch people getting consistently shot down. Kaspr had his heart set on picking up a cute Mexican girl a couple tables away; I thought to myself “Oh this should be good”. But follow him over for moral support. He opens with this line:

Kaspr: Are we all having a good time?

CuteMexican: We were.

Kaspr: Alright. What are we drinking?

And I shit you not; this is what she had to say:

CuteMexican: Were all married.

No remorse in her voice, no hint of sadness, and worst of all: no ring on her, or any finger. This bitch was as cold as ice. Now I was listening intently and couldn’t help but laugh at this exchange, seeing as how I didn’t give a fuck what either of them had to say. Needless to say Kaspr walked away, head hung in shame. Can you guess what happened next? Yep, another round of shots. Apparently Kaspr needed help swallowing his pride and there’s nothing like a little liquid courage to coax one to get back in the saddle. By now the average level of drunkenness amongst the group is starting to get alarming. Unbeknownst to me, a cute girl sits to my immediate right, and a middle age lady comes and stands behind me. The reason I don’t notice this drastic shift in physiology is solely based on the fact that I have another Vegas bomb to my lips and am chugging hard. Have no fear, I noticed her eventually, as Red was mercilessly hitting on her. After a minute of this I felt compelled to interject:

Me: who the fuck are you?

CuteGirl: Oh, we just sat down and are talking to your friend.

Me:……………… Me staring at her……………

Red: It’s his birthday!

CuteGirl: Oh Happy Birthday!

Me: One: its not my birthday, and two: I can almost taste the condescension falling from your mouth.

Me, to older lady: Are you her mother?

OlderLady: (In completely genuine excitement and enthusiasm) YES! I AM!

Me: AHHHH HAHAHAHAHA! YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Me: Do you always let her prance around and play slut or is this a rare thing?

OlderLady: I can’t believe you!

Turns out my words hurt CuteGirl pretty deeply because she slapped me and walked away as everyone at the table, except for Red, was dying laughing. I feel accomplished. Not because I cock-blocked a friend, but because I derailed a slut train, which probably went off the tracks and crashed into a group of even more depraved, degenerate men which she settled for. Bitches aren’t worth my time. Bar-2 Dustin-2

It’s now 1am and I’m piss drunk and gullible. Kaspr, still reeling from his many sexual defeats of the night, convinces me that jumping into the off-limits pool surrounded by bouncers is a good idea. I’m all about it. We quickly and quietly empty our pockets and give all valuable possessions to our friends still at the table. Those friends, in retrospect, knew what we were doing and should have stopped us… Eh, who am I kidding I wouldn’t have stopped us either. So there we were right outside the pool gate, with a clever distraction (we convinced a girl named Cristal {ugh} to distract the bouncer at the gate). Worked flawlessly. We bound through the gate and in our most deliberate fashion, stripped off socks, shoes, jackets and shirts and off we were into the pool. Mind you this pool is not heated, and its 70 degrees outside when were all use to 100+, ITS FUCKING COLD. Luckily I have consumed enough alcohol to impress a hobo so I don’t immediately fall into the throes of shock. In our drunken stupor we then decided to splash around like toddlers at the beach, bad idea. The feelings the bouncers felt were similar to Holocaust for the Jews, especially the two guys whose sole responsibility was to keep people from getting in the pool. I mean these guys really flipped their shit, screaming and ranting with such obscenities like “were gonna call the cops” and “I’m gonna beat your ass”, things of that nature. Well, Kaspr and I are thick headed, and drunk, so before we admit defeat we do two mini laps around the pool, encouraged by the other hundred drunk patrons at the bar this fine evening. Finally we do give up, and needless to say we were bounced out pretty hard. Were now soaking wet, and generally malcontent. Kaspr has the great idea to jump the six foot wall and resume our partying, but thankfully I was able to summon the drunken Gods to help me talk him out of making such a foolish decision. Instead, we walk to the front door like nothing happened and demand we are escorted in to recover our property. The bouncer was not having it:

Me: Don’t be a douche just because you’re wearing a red shirt.

VeryLargeBouncer: You have a big mouth on you, kid.

Me: you have a big gut on you, but I don’t feel it’s necessary to pinpoint everyone’s insecurities.

VeryLargeBouncer: its best you leave.

Me: fuck you. Hey who’s your friend? (Gesticulating to second VeryLargeBouncer) I like him; he does nothing but smile like a fag with a bag full of dicks.

VeryLargeBouncer2: "HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA". And goes inside never to return. Apparently my friends said he was very impressed with my shit talking skills, seeing as how this guy was massive and would have played basketball with my dome piece. VeryLargeBouncer1 was not impressed, however.

VeryLargeBouncer1: I’m calling the cops.

Me: (heavy sigh) Alright you win. Bar-3 Dustin-10 (I jumped in the fucking pool, of course I win).

At that very moment my friends walked out laughing and congratulating us on a night that went well. They didn’t know or understand that Kaspr and I were far from calling it a night. Soaking wet to the bone, and now shivering, we got us a cab and proceed to the next bar as I get more and more pissed off with each second that passes. By the time we reach the second bar, Fat Harveys, I was in a fighting mood. It couldn’t have been more of a rundown shithole of a bar if it was situated on a landfill. A dartboard, a pinball machine, and white trash. I was not happy to be in these peoples presence. But there was a bar, so shots started coming again. We're caught up in the moment and I feel a hand place itself forcibly on my shoulder, apparently not knowing how mad I am at this point in time, this person thinks this action is ok. I quickly and painfully show him that this couldn’t be further from the truth. I took his left hand with mine as I shot my right hand under his elbow and locked on to my other hand. This creates an unbelievable amount of pressure, as well as pain, on ones wrist and shoulder. Quite literally the only way to avoid the pain is to not be a doucheag in the first place, or go to the ground and hope the one who created the pains inception is kind enough to cease. I was kind enough, but only because the person who I had guided to the ground was none other than Kaspr… all I could say was “oops” as I bought two beers for the people he fell into on his descent to the hard floor. Although I had to pay for the beer, I’m beaming with excitement at how flawlessly I executed the takedown.

The next round of drinks comes and I’m obliterated at this point, my only source of support is Mike and Kaspr, the latter of which had recently forgave me for my hostility. Blurrrrr.

Last call comes and by now the thought of ingesting any more alcohol has me reeling. Just the mere thought of a hop had me doubling over, the vomit making its way up my throat. Thankfully I’m somehow able to choke it back and resume with the plan of the night, which now only has one thing left: food. Food in mass quantities. Food that will make me vomit if the alcohol doesn’t. Mcdonalds. The source of all that is greasy and disgusting and it’s all I wanted in the world. As Mike and I try to figure out how we’re going to get there, Kaspr, Tony, Red, Lego, and Ski all disappeared. Fucking disappeared. I have no idea where they are but at this point I don’t care much. Mike, Sonny and I are on the hunt for MickeyD’s. Lucky for us there was one right across the street! I couldn’t believe how lucky we were! So we moseyed on over to the window and try to order. The pimply blob working that night hastily stated the fact that we couldn't order trough the drive-thru without a car… The poor girl didn’t stand a chance against the verbal assault that was soon to rain down upon her.

Me: Are you fucking kidding me? Do you honestly get paid enough to turn away drunken folk whose only qualm is lack of cheeseburgers? What kind of sick establishment is this? WE'RE IN AMERICA!

She shut the window as I fumed. Much to my disbelief there was actually a car pulling in, about to order. AT 230 IN THE MORNING! This is some serious luck. We make a bee-line to this guys car who I’m sure is scared shitless right now, 3 drunken idiots running up to his car? I would have pulled a gun if I were him. Thankfully that’s not how it played out, but instead he bought us the cheeseburgers with cash supplied by myself. In my last fit of rage I took the bag filled with cheeseburgers and strolled back up to the window…

Me: HEY BITCH! Was that so hard? Because he had 4 wheels and no life means he gets burgers and I don’t? YOU'RE A FUCKIN NAZI!

I walk away proud. Maybe that disgusting excuse for an evolved life form will play nice with people next time. Finally we call another cab and manage to get back on base. I passed out until 3pm the next day and woke up wishing I had thrown up the 2 liters of alcohol in my stomach solely to avoid the war-drums in my head. This was going to be a long day, but I wouldn’t have had it go any other way. “I’m awesome” has been my motto as of late, and I’m starting to like it.

 

 

TL;DR EPIC NIGHT.


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