Let me preface this entry by saying that I generally like to think of myself as a caring person. I try not to be shallow; judging everyone by their personalities alone and view everyone the same, despite their appearances. That being said, in the story following, I don’t display any of those qualities. So….if you are offended, forgive me and if you know me you know that this is occurring at a time in my life where I think I can be a little shallow.
The story begins about a month ago. All my buddy’s wives, girlfriends, ex-wives and wardens were out of town for a bachelorette party. So as everyone was free for the weekend, we decided to have a guy’s night by going to a Rockies game Friday night. There were six of us, all of whom are great friends and have known each other for years. To protect the innocent lets just call them: The Bee, Rainman, Penny Loafers, Diorama and Hairy Palms. Par the course, I could not tell you much about the game as we proceeded to drink too much and ended up at the Sandlot bar by the middle of the 5th.
Following up the riveting game, we decided to go out to the bars.
Bar 1: Cruise Room – I usually love the Cruise Room, but tonight the locale can be summed up with 3 things: expensive drinks, old people and drunken idiots (us). We walked in and noticed we were the youngest people in the bar, by a lot. After the complaining of “Why are we here?” died down from those who didn’t make a suggestion about where to go, we settled in for a drink. Ten minutes in, “Diorama” introduced me as his “divorced friend” to a table of single ladies. Is that my new title? Awesome! However to his cred, it did work in getting me sitting at their table. I believe they were attractive; of course the 3 hours of drinking beforehand could have swayed my judgment a little. Anyway, they were all divorced too…..yeah……and they seemed a little bitter. I hope I don’t end up that way. Either way, I did get their numbers. Oh also, I think “Penny Loafers” got the digits of an older gentleman wearing a sports coat. Not sure what his wife will think of that, but he was really into him. Personally I think it was sports coat envy.
Bar 2: Rio – Here’s where the shit hit the fan. Last time I was at the Rio……a couple years ago…..it was filled with attractive, witty single women; women who you are instantly attracted to and who you can have a good conversation with. The kind of women who, despite our obvious shortcomings, my friends and I have been lucky enough to end up with. However this time…..not so much.
We walk in….the bar is filled with lots of very scary women. I am talking McDonald’s eating, muffin-top bearing, Aqua-netted Phys-Ed teachers. Oh my god! So I am drunk…yes still drunk(are you seeing a theme here?) and starting to freak out a little… is this what my future holds? I decide the best way to get through this is…obviously...a Rio marg; in retrospect, maybe not the best choice. So after about 20 minutes and drinking pressure for “Rainman”, who was in College Rainman form, and another margarita……I don’t feel any better. I know I haven’t dated for almost 5 years, but is this really what I have to look forward too? I look to my right and besides “The Bee” passed out on the table next to me mumbling something about monkeys, there is a table of hungry Cougars looking to devour any innocent prey that walks by. Uh oh….my chest is starting to constrict. To my left there is a mess of ladies dancing to the music, it’s like a spandex party at Jenny Craig’s. Can’t breathe…. have to step outside; I am freaking out!!! I go downstairs and talk myself down from my first ever panic attack. I tell myself “This is not that typical, it’s just a weird night, nothing to worry about. Stop being so shallow, I’m sure their great people……”
So after getting my breathing back to normal, I go back upstairs to our table. Low and behold as the table comes into view, I see the table of cougars has now swarmed our table. Let me say the smallest of these ladies outweighed the heaviest of us by about 50lbs. They have completely engulfed “Rainman” and “Penny Loafer”. Pardon the obvious comparison, but it appeared like hunters circling in on their pray. They are obviously scared…”Rainman” is sweating and “Penny Loafer” is laughing nervously. None the less, they are chatting these ladies up. Honestly, when any of us are drunk we’ll talk to a tree if its leaves are blowing. Again, on any other day, I’m sure I would have been all about talking to these ladies, however not tonight. The only person who seems somewhat disturbed in my other single friend, “Hairy Palms”, who looks like he just witnessed the trampling of a baby calve by a pack of elephants. So I proceed to walk past the table, pretending not to know any of them, only making eye contact with “Hairy Palms” and go back outside to reevaluate the night’s events…while vomiting in an alley. Funny side note, I have thrown up more in the last month than I probably have since graduating from college. Mostly from terrible, Mexican tequila…but that is another story.
Anyway, after that the night was pretty much over. While waiting for light rail for 45 minutes, away from the hunting grounds, I realized that this was not typical and things will be fine but…..wow what a night!
5 comments:
the cougar hunts at night. it is an endurance hunter. it lures its prey into the long dark hours of the night with warm tequila and stale beer. it strikes at the absolute moment of weakness: after a corner-spew or an accidental bar-nap. it's victim, often blind and incommunicable, will awake in a stupor with little to no recollection of the feed. the cougar hunts at night. the cougar, hunts at night...
It is good of you to note that these are probably nice people despite their drunken behavior. However, there is certainly no excuse for a muffin top. I recently behaved poorly with the help of G&T (way to many from my pusher husband) and said many things I should NOT have said. I would hope people would bestow the same kind assumption about me.
As the mother hen, I have to point out that you can't use the Rio as any sort of example of the greater population. Or more importantly, any sort of representation of women you can bring home to meet the fam. Please tell Diorama and Penny Loafers to think of something better to do next time. What you did would be like Penny Loafers bride shopping at Wal-Mart. Remember the old saying that luck is simply when opportunity meets preparedness. You are certainly not going to find dating luck in the depths of the Cougar infested Rio. What you will find is a hell of a marg and for now, that may be just what the Dr. ordered!
Next time you go out on a bender - if I'm in town - I promise to destroy some public property for the greater good! Mailbox... newspaper stand... homeless person's tent... doesn't matter. I'll have at it to support the cause.
Ummm, absolutely the funniest blog I have read in a long time. I know, muffin top is not in your future...and I am on to Penny Loafers, Rainman, Hairy Palms and Diorama!
Good words.
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