This ones gonna be hard to do, but I'll attempt to do this and keep the actual peoples identities safe from the repercussions that would surely follow.
Most of my life I've been a 'bigger' guy. I'm not tall by any means, but I'm not little. I weigh in at: 6' tall, 54" chest, 16" biceps...and slightly on the fat side. I'm not small. But for some reason, almost every time I walk into a bar, some little peckerwood picks me out of the crowd to have a problem with. This is even before I can smart off to him. I don't get that.!?
I grew up avoiding fights, almost at all costs. Most of you that know me, know that I'm a pretty 'smooth' talker. I could straight talk a guy outta wanting to whoop my ass and into being buddies in a flash. For the most part I suck at fighting. I get winded fast and it just plain hurts to get punched in the face. In turn, I usually congregated with the huge guys at parties or that crazy eyed lightning rod that would fight anyone that would step up. This was the best way to watch a fight versus being in one, and thus being more available for schmoozIng the ladies!)
Now in my mid 30's, I really have no business fighting yet I'm not really known to walk away from an idiot with something to say. So a night at a local bar last fall was not going to be an exception. We were celebrating something (can't remember the occasion) on a patio with several of our friends which included a lot of people that night. There was a big mixture of friends, but one particular friend of my wife's was in attendance and her 'situation' was pretty damned funny.
This gal we'll call 'Vonda' just because that's just funny as hell. Now Vonda is, or was, a traveler. She was always on the go. So we didn't see much of her. She had been through a divorce not very long before and so she was now 'on the loose'. Everyone that's been through a split understands what that means. She was seeking out companionship of the other gender. Well, she got WAY more than she bargained for on this particular trip.
We line the night up by making sure that everyone's in attendance and to our surprise, Vonda's in town and able to show. Now, having said that, she's known for "Pulling a Vonda". Meaning you find an excuse to no show at the last minute, so we weren't for sure that she'd show, but we were excited at the possibility. Now we're at the bar and Vonda arrives with her sister, some other folks, and...'Denver'. This is where I get tickled. Denver is apparently a bartender from 'Denver' that Vonda befriended while on business IN Denver, hence the name. This guy had thought he hit the big time. He obviously fell head over heels for Vonda, SO Much, that he buys a ticket to XNA to spend a few days in the ray of light that Vonda showed him at his place of employment. The reasoning that she had for 'flying one in' was beyond me, yet none of my concern. Until...
I'm mingling with my buddies, P and Marlboro on the patio when my wifey arrives at my side with a serious look on her face. "Vonda's getting drunk, and you need to hold these." dangling a set of keys in my face. "Don't let her have these. She IS NOT to drive." Now I take these words very serious. I'm not gonna be the guy that let the drunk do some driving. So I pocket the keys in the left front and go on about my merry way chit chatting with my buddies. Until...
Next thing I know there's a 'tap tap' on my shoulder. I turn to find Vonda flapping her lashes at me; "I need my keys" flicking her fingers in that gimme motion. "Nope!" is all she gets outta me as I turn back to continue my conversation. A few minutes later the same 'tap tap'. "Jason, please. I need my keys." I reply with some smartass remark explain that she's not getting them and that she just needs to call for a cab when she's ready. Long story short, I'm not giving up the keys to Vonda. I was given these keys, took the bar oath, and by god, I'm the vault. I go about my blabbering with some peeps. Until...
This time the 'tap tap' was someone new. I turn to find a 12 year old 'Charles in Charge' looking at me and saying; "Hey man. I need Vonda's keys." It's Denver. I think to myself; “Now this guy isn't the cab I was sworn to see Vonda into, now is he”. So in my 'I've-had-a-lot-of-double-tall-Crowns' state of highness, my Smartass Switch had been on Extreme/High for at least an hour prior to this poor idiot walking up. I reply; "I don't think so, buddy." Not knowing this dipshits name. All I knew was that he had just interrupted my conversation. Being the fight avoider that I am, I ignore this moment and go back to my business. Until...
 |
| My Idea of what Denver looked like - |
Not 15 minutes later. This time the 'tap tap' was a little more annoying. I am, after all, engaged in a conversation and beginning to get a little bothered by the persistence. I turn to see Denver in an obvious state of distress and he rambles; "Blah, blah, blah...gimme the keys!" Now I'm sensing vulnerability and my nature tells me to attack this poor bastard with a little public humiliation, but I pull on my proverbial hate reins and only give him the "Go fuck yourself, buddy. If you’re too broke to buy a cab for yourself and Vonda, I'll fork out the $50 it takes to get you there!" I did this loud enough to where only the immediate crowd can hear and respond with a giggle (after all, I am an attention whore). Now the differences between Denver and I are a little more pronounced. I have now officially let him know, without the OHS, that I'm kinda tired of his bothering me. I turn and go back to drinking. Until...
Vonda appears at my side whining about how she needs her keys so that she can get into her house. Well, I maybe drinking, but it's not stupid sauce I'm sippin on. I kindly remove the keys from my pocket, de-ring the house key and hand it over and say; "There now. Problem solved." She was defeated. You could sense it as she walks away. I had won! Maybe I was going to escape confrontation by our little Scott Baio! Or so I had thought.
Not 10 minutes later Denver is in my personal space, this time a little more demanding. "Gimme the keys." he demands. "Umm...no!" I responded with a little smirk. This time I knew the inevitable was about to happen. I was gonna have to double-dog-dare this kid if he asked one more time, which was glaringly about to happen. He shouts; "GIMMIE THE DAMN KEYS." Well now, this time he steps to me in the "I'm ready to square off" stance. This may have been intimidating enough to draw an OHS with most guys but there was one problem. He smushed up to me and his eyes were even with my nipples. This guy was REALLY SHORT. Holding back on the Jasonisms at this point was really hard, but I give him the chance to pee on my shoe anyway.
"I tell you what. You want 'em? They’re in my front pocket." I spill this line out loud enough to draw the attention of the immediate crowd around me which included P and Marlboro. This is a defense maneuver I like to use to make sure that, should this kid actually man up and swing, that it would end with my "troop" tackling his ass before he managed to actually hurt me. As I said, I tire easy and this was a kid chalk full of piss n' vinegar. Obviously he realized that when he got close, I was a touch bigger that he may have thought.
Marlboro, P, Me and the Bouncer
While this episode is taking place, I was told that the sister was gaining my wife's attention and stated in her 21 year old valley girl slang; "Um. Like. That big guy is escalating the situation. Could you like, go say something?" My wife finds this rather comical, because she realizes this girl has no clue of whom the smartass she is referring too and that is also her husband.
None the less, the bouncer notices the commotion in grabs Denver by the neck and totes him to the curb leaving me to re-assume my sipping of beverage. Except- I'm not so lucky. Sister appears at my side and demands; "Like. Give the keys to me. I'm like, her sisterrrr. And I'll make sure they get home safe, and stuff." We'll now. In my current state this seemed to be my out. I relinquish my duties of key holder to the sister and these annoying moments become her problem, not mine. I hand them over and warn her that should these two tipsies end up driving and dying, it's on her conscience, not mine, and I hand over the keys. She huff's and turns to leave.
As much as I was glad that my responsibilities were over, I had a nagging feeling that Sister was folding like a chair and coughing up the keys. Needing a refill on my tasty beverage, I decide to investigate. Low and behold I find the two of them walking outside and Denver is shaking the keys in a 'I just won' manner as they were tripping their way to the car. Not happening. I arrive at his back and demand the keys and this time, he tucks tail like my dog does when I bust her getting in the wife’s bathroom trash and hands me the keys without issue. I make sure a cab is called and continue inside.
Now I wasn't there, but I was told by Marlboro and P that Denver is out on the curb crying. CRYING for Christ’s sake! Mumbling something to the effect that he "just wants to go home with Vonda..." crap. Dude! Don't be crying at your defeat. Anyway, I sense Vonda's disgust and mention that she can call me and Tracy the next day for a ride. Funny part is that Denver's return flight isn't for 2 more days. She has to have this dipshit in her house and deal with his whiney ass for awhile. So she calls the next day and needs a ride and we are going by there anyway, so we swing in. HE COMES OUT WITH HER. As she approaches the truck, you see a look on her face that says it all. The 'what-the-hell-was-I-thinking, look. We have our littlest with us and Denver attempts to climb in and scootch over next to her and Em squeals in horror. The guy even freaked out a 5 year old.
End of the day, I don't think Vonda will be flying in anymore props and I…continue to be 'That guy' at the bars.
Oh yeah. Like I've said before! Take a cab.
No comments:
Post a Comment