What kind of world do we live in where educated and good-looking young men throw around lines like, “Those shots are gonna get moldy if no one’s gonna drink them.” The worst part is the people throwing around lines like these are sober, there’s none of that “I hope I can have that line stricken from the record on account of ‘I was sooooo smashed’ that night”. Whatever. I don’t even know if it’s because guys are getting used to talking to dumb girls or guys are just getting dumb, or people in general are just dumb and social skills fall on the second or third tier in the grand scheme of things. I can blame it on bar talk I guess–I mean we WERE at a bar so what kind of conversation do you expect? Then again, it depends on the bar.
So Carlene and I found ourselves at Club Three-Sixty last night.
Yeah. And at the start of (and pretty much all throughout) the night, we find ourselves sitting across A, who smiles politely. A lot. In fact it seems like it’s all he’s capable of, smiling politely and nodding a lot, no matter how much you try to yank words out of his mouth. Words, people. Not even full coherent sentences.
“You sit next to him, he’ll kiss you.” my sister urges Carlene (oh yeah, my sister was here too).
And Carlene’s like “What?! Why would he do that?!” or something like that. To which my sister starts spewing random babble about how drunk Mr. A gets and how he just keeps kissing girls when he’s drunk. Last time I heard the whole, “You sit next to _____, he’ll kiss you!” line, I was 9. Boys still had cooties and we were all forgiven for having about as much intelligence as a reality show on Bravo. At this point, Mr. A has left the table and Carlene wants to go down to Bureau and dance, which we will only do if Bureau did not have a 500 Peso cover charge.
“I don’t know, maybe they’re not charging anyone to get in tonight, I mean it’s Thursday.”
Mr. A retakes his seat. So Carlene asks him,
“Hey A____, would you know if there’s an entrance fee at Bureau?”
A looks puzzled for a moment, then breaks into a HUGE grin.
“Like a cover charge, will we have to pay to get in?”
A keeps smiling.
“We want to go dancing…but not here. How much does it cost to get into Bureau?”
A is still smiling. After smiling some more, A finally looks like he’s about to say something:
(wait for it)
(if you’re this far along, your wish will come true. Money, women, zac efron, money, more money all coming your way after the jump)
Oh. Your. God. A, we waited with bated breath, and we waited and waited, and we get not a simple yes or no, but it’s monosyllabic evil cohort: “Why?” Screw it. Carlene and I head downstairs where there is no cover charge (YAY!) but there is no dancing either(AAW). We make our way back up and A is still at the table being his usual loquacious self.
A opens his mouth and words come out, “Can I just say…” he stands up (or my memory’s failing me and trying to make things funny “HAHA” just because I was already depressed at this point) “that Irene is really pretty?” Irene is my sister, and yes she is pretty. I’ve gotten used to this as a standard ice breaker, right up there with “Can I just say…that this floor is really hard?” Well, yes A, you can say it, you can say it as much as you like, even if it’s a rather odd thing to say at this point, no matter how many times you turn it on its head. You could make a mad lib of the names and adjectives and it still comes out pretty awkward, but whatever, I’ll keep this line in mind next time I want to start a conversation: “Can I just say…that my abs are really tight?” No Alice, no they’re not.
Carlene and I agree.
“She is pretty!”
“We’ve seen her face, PRETTY!”
“She’s got brains, too.”
“We really like brains.”
My sister then goes on to make the universal sign for “brains” which is apparently two closed fists, side-by-side, held near the forehead. A___ then goes on to make the universal sign for “I cut my foot on a piece of glass and my shoe is filling up with blood” and disappears promptly.
Later, another guy comes to our table bearing shot glasses.
“You two have no reason not to get drunk tonight!”
How about that. “You two have no reason to get drunk tonight!” just happens to be my favorite line in the book. No it does not reek of stranger danger, which is what Carlene and I start yelling “Stranger danger! Stranger danger! That alcohol could be spiked with more alcohol!”. I should really learn to deal with serious issues in a way that does not include making light of them. Given the context however, this is a party, and shot glass guy is looming over us… it’s bordering on creepy. “Those shots are gonna get moldy if no one’s gonna drink them,” he says, because you know, a lot of distilled alcoholic beverages get wasted daily on account of mold. The statistics are staggering.
There are however reasons not to get drunk tonight, or any other night for that matter: chief among them being lucidity. I like being lucid mainly because I like being able to snap back to certain moments and remember words exchanged, good laughs, and wanting to give the right number to the right person for the sake of more words and more laughs. This is clearly not one of those nights. I take the shot, but unfortunately my tolerance isn’t that low and I still remember Mr. A, Stranger Danger, and how depressing the human race can get.