Bounce With Me, Bounce With Me

Again, the nights don't cease to amaze me with their randomness. I went to a spontaneous retirement party for an old boss at work that turned into a roast of me once I sat down. Like I said before, I leave a mark on people. I had a few beers and then jumped on my bike to head home from work. Don't get excited. It's not a motorcycle. It's an old school Schwinn Heavy Duty that I enjoy cruising around on immensely, however, don't let it know, but I'm checking this out as a replacement rather than fixing my existing. It would take some customizations, though. I'd have to remove the hand brakes and freewheel so that it was a traditional fixie.

So, I'm on my bike and I stop by the bar that I drink at and grab an after work beer on a super nice Friday and am looking forward to going home and getting a little bit of work done before I watch Battlestar Galactica and go to bed at midnight. I'm lame and boring and I have plans.

As I'm sitting there I go have a smoke with a couple of the bartenders and they are stressed because they don't have a bouncer. I make eye contact and next thing you know, I'm on waters until 9:00 PM. Then, I'm sitting on a stool drinking Diet Cokes for five hours while I check IDs. These numbers went through my head all night: 4/11/87. Seriously, all night.

A couple pricks tried to sneak in while I was checking IDs and making small talk and it was awesome. All you have to do is sound mean and say "Hey Dickhead. Where's your ID?" and then they say "I don't have one" and you get to look at them and shake your head and just go "Seriously, dude. Seriously. Just go home, man." I was totally impersonating my dad when I had to lay down the law. It was rad.

Also, drunks like to talk. They will talk about anything. Their boyfriends, the stock market, punk rock donuts, metal, chess, your shoes, your hair...anything. At one point, I went and got my iPod and just listened to music while I nodded like I was listening to drunks. Some of the regulars would actually doubletake when they saw me on the door, too. One girl told me that she had never met me sober and that it was kind of intimidating. It really was like the ultimate revenge on debauchery. I was Bizarro-HughVoltage.

This one Russian girl (love the accent) came over while she was smoking and asked if she could hear what I was listening, too. I think it was "Poor Places" by Wilco. So, she starts groovin' to it a little bit and is really getting into it and then ends up listening to Force Seven (my old band) somehow. She starts humming along to one of the songs which is kind of weird because there is no way that she has ever heard the song, but she actually got it better than the original trumpet player played it. ZANG! Anyway, she gave me her e-mail after dancing in my personal space for a while. Then, another little kickboxing girl who I let punch me in the arm like twelve times gave me her number on her way out. Then, another girl asked if we could go home and cuddle after work. That was kinda weird. Do bouncers remind chicks of their dads or something?

Anyway, a lot of girls were coming in which creates a testosterone heavy atmosphere which concerned me a little bit because dudes get weird around a lot of girls and I get bloody noses around weird dudes occasionally. At about 1:30 I was pleasantly surprised, however, that only one dude had a real problem and just stood in front of me trying to creep in while I said "Not gonna happen, dude" over and over again without even looking at him. The disinterest defuses aggression, I swear. I think it also made him yell "busta" at a guy inside. Dude, did you not get the memo, playa? Nobody says "busta" anymore.

So, yeah, I was on my way home from work on my bike. Went to get a drink and ended up bouncing until close and then had to ride my bike home with no bike light at three in the morning and got to bed real late. Moral of the story? Making plans is simply a way that life has of fucking with you and setting you up for disappointment. Let life happen, don't make life happen.