day 20 - a song that you listen to when you’re angry
"Please can you just let me back in?"
"Back of the line."
"Five minutes ago you said I could get back in when I got off the phone. Five minutes ago."
"Well now you have to go to the back of the line," the bouncer snaps without looking me in the eye.
"What the fuck? Seriously?" The bouncer ignores me, looking over my head. My eyebrows smoosh. "I don't have my ID," I sneer.
"Not my problem."
"Yeah it is. I'm not the one who goes back on my word, dick."
Fraya slides between me and the bouncer and turns. "Ross, calm down." Bouncer's eyes flicker towards her and then back to the line. Someone else comes up and he let's them right through.
"See, Fraya! This is why I fucking hate coming to bars in this neighborhood, because this dick won't let us back in because HE GETS OFF ON WITHHOLDING," I push past her. "Come on, guy. Just please let me back in LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD."
"Not my problem."
"Yeah it is, because my ID is inside. With my credit card. With the bartender."
"Not my problem."
"Ross--"
"Actually, your fucking retarded bouncing system IS your problem."
"--be nice."
"NICE? It's three in the morning and we're surrounded by fucking douchebags" (I'm sure that did nothing to get anyone in line on my side) "who buy their jeans fashionably fucking torn and speak in Jersey Shore quotes. NICE has no meaning here when you're dealing with goons on a power trip. Nice gets you ignored. So if I have to yell LIKE A BITCH, I will."
Fraya grabs my elbow and pulls me back. "Ross. Let me handle this, okay? All right? You're being an asshole."
"I'm being an asshole? OF COURSE I'M BEING AN ASSHOLE. I'm being an asshole because THAT FUCKING BOUNCER OVER THERE HAS FUCKING MEMENTO MEMORY AND WON'T LET US INSIDE."
"Listen. Ross. Ross," she growls. "You are being a bitch and you don't make any sense. It's Friday. Friday. Partyin partyin, that's all they're doing. Ross? Listen to me. Tomorrow. ROSS. Yesterday was Thursday, and tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday."
I take a deep breath. "And Sunday comes afterwards."
"Partyin partyin--"
"Yeah." I smile.
"Okay. Just stand here and let me do this."
The bouncer let's some hoe bag through the door who was definitely not in line. I lift up on my toes. "Fucking EUNUCH."
Fraya giggles, and tries to be stern with me. "He probably doesn't know what that word means."
"Fraya. Be nice. I don't want to be at this shitty bar anyway. PLEASE CAN I CLOSE MY TAB?"
The bouncer doesn't even look at me, just checks another ID and says to me, clearly, "Back of the line."
"What the FUCK is your damage? You know I'm going to yell at you until you either get my shit or you let me get it myself. You think I want to give this bar any more money?"
"Back of the line."
"Get me my shit and I will have no reason to stay."
"You gotta get in line."
"And then do what? Argue with you in half an hour when I still don't have my ID? That makes no fucking sense. You were not hired for your ability to fucking reason and...rationalize. And shit."
Fraya squeezes her way up to the bartender wearing her apologetic face. "Listen, I'm sorry my friend is being such a bitch, but we gave her whiskey earlier and she just lost $150 at the casino."
"AND YOUR HAIR IS FUCKING DUMB."
"Could you please just, please let us in so we can close our tabs and we'll leave right away. Please? Otherwise we're both going to have to listen to her bitching."
"THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT."
"And I don't think either of us want that."
The bouncer looks at her. Looks at me. "Close your tab and leave."
"Thank you," Fraya says. "Thank you so much. Come on, Ross."
"Fuck you, I won't do what they tell me."
Aaaaaaaand I'm thirty.
...
14 comments:
This is why I don't drink at places that have doormen... and why I pay for everything at the bar with cash... and why I think I need to booby-trap my porn stash with explosives...
Hey, happy birthday.
i refuse to allow a doorman to reject me. because i know they would. and i'd have to stab him. happy birthday!
I usually(though not always) wait until I have gotten what I wanted to unleash the truth to the douchetariat. I hope that's a sign of my maturity and growth, but probably not.
You are funny Rossi, and though I would have been annoyed at you int he moment, I would have laughed my ass off about with you afterward.
That's hilarious - my fall-back's Bulls on Parade.
Happy birthday, and I mean that sincerely because things CHANGE at thirty, Rass. Things chaaaaange, man. I'm halfway through mine this year, and me in 2005 is virtually unrecognizable to me in 2011. Well, on the inside, anyway. Actually, the only thing that's changed on the outside is the truly heroic amount of white hair I now have in my beard, and since I don't think you'll have to deal with that particular de-pigmentation issue, I believe I shall now exit this comment-thread quietly.
Happy birthday.
(chaaaaaange!)
Jesus, where were you guys when I turned thirty in January?
That little caveat at the end there was more of an age-has-no-relevance-on-immaturity thing.
But thanks just the same.
Oh, so you know about the change, then. Can you feeeeel it?
...
No, I don't know what's gotten into me either.
Happy birthday, Rass!!!1!!1!!
I would've egged you on and threw gang signs at that fucking nonce of a bouncer, then i thought "what the fuck were you doing at a bar/club with a bouncer and a line and takes credit cards?"
Yeah, what Kono said.
BTW, nice nuance, Mr "A Rat Trap". Rassles, I think you need to do a cleanup on aisle three
You know, I have no reason to explain myself to bastards. Fuck off.
But I am insecure and on your side, so...whatever. What was I doing at that shitty bar? There were friends in from out of town and they wanted to go to a 5am bar and stay in that area (which sucks, by the way, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise), and I wanted to get drunk and had no money for a cab because I lost it at the craps tables.
You rock.
I drink alone. Less arguing that way.
And thirty?! In the stylings of Clay Davis . . . SHEEEEIIIIIIIIT.
Puppy . . .
I also have serious bad issues with misuse of authority. Especially when I've had a few.
Take that time a month (or two?) ago when I threatened the life of a police officer who just wanted to "protect himself" from me by putting me in handcuffs. I karate chopped and kicked in the air to show how ridiculous (ummm...) HE was being.
Bitches. That's right. NOW IT'S TIME TO RISE AGAINST THEM.
And I'm 34. Wut.
Love from the Westsiiiiide.
I'm going to be thirty in 2 years. What does it mean?
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