Now it's time to shake it. After a while the place is hoppin. Not like that one time at the gay club in New York, but it's busy for Ann Arbor. It's "pride" night so there's lots of fem-males making out and lots of she-males wigglin, but it's all fun in the name of shakin' your ass so get out there and shake it. The people watching is pretty great. The guy in the back with no shirt on, yet wearing a santa hat, is quite pleased to gyrate with the stripper pole to no end. He's wiggling and writhing, and 20 minutes later, he's still there. He now has shirtless friends. Hanging upside down on said stripper pole, or doing handstands. Yes. Handstands in a dirty bar. We dance and have a merry time and then the dj plays Nickelback. The dance floor empties. Nickelback sucks. Afterward they coax the dancers back out with some choice tunes. The kind of music with bass that reverberates from the soles of your feet through the top of your skull and you can feel the pounding of the beat in your chest down to your core. You just close your eyes and your entire body vibrates with the pulse until you feel your every molecule must be dancing along to the beat. Fuckin A. Then they play Mariah Carey, All I want for Christmas is you. Everybody screams. It's on now. Oh yeah...! After a hard 50-hour workweek I needed to burn off some steam. Thank you, Necto.
So yes. Good times.
We depart and head for the Fleetwood. Time for nourishment. We get in and order and food comes fast. There's this incredibly drunk guy in the corner, staring at us. Just staring. Staring. We were all very involved with replenishing our tummies with our greasy food and when the inebriated man reached his grubby hand out and snatched a handful of Rochelle's french fries, we all stared in dumfounded amazement. We stopped eating, we didn't move, we didn't talk. We just stared at the man in awe, as he munched happily on his prize.
Then we all start stammering at once, a blur of "Did he just do," "What the Fuck?" and "Wait, what?" "Did that really just happen?" As the drunk man's friend realized what he had done and pulled his attention away from us and apologized.
We just continued to be amazed. Mouths gaping. Questioning stares. That drunk guy really just reached over and stole a handful of her food. Really? Damn. Wow.
I mean. That's balls, man. You'd get your ass kicked doing that in New York. Good thing you're in friendly A2 town.
Seriously, you know you're drunk when you steal food from strangers.
4 comments:
Whoa! I walked past the Fleetwood on my walk home last night.
Dead cell phone=no cab.
P.S. I would not have been a lame-o if your brother would have told me before the day before. The only reason butthead told me is because I sent him a message asking him when he was going to be back and he said "I already am".
I had to makes me some monies taking pictures of a band. Christmas is a killer.
I hope your ears are ok :)
P.S. Only @ the Fleetwood.......
Well then, perhaps it is not Joe's friends who are lame, but Joe is a BAD PLANNER. I suspect the latter...
You know, you could have had your food stolen by a drunk guy with us! Bad cell phone.
Ears are ok. The music wasn't too loud. I can't believe I keep forgetting to bring friggin earplugs...!
Sorry my planning was bad on that one. I was having a crazy month @ The Juilliard School, in New York City...
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