The last week of training was horrible for me; I was mentally drained and-and just fucking hateful. So I needed a definite relaxation period, just get away and forget about cell counts, slide differentials, and cell maturation. So what do I do? I grab my wingman Nicholas and head off not expecting to return till Sunday…anything off-base, I didn’t care what, and just get drunk as fuck. Sad I know that we have to resort to alcohol in order to relax…but I am telling you, the simple luxuries not accommodated by the base mean so gorram much. Even a beer in a hot bath with calming music was blissful.
The next night was a little more, shall we say, “Eventful.” Again we drink excessively, but decided to wander about town. Unbeknownst to Nicholas or I, this part of the town was not…the “friendliest” part of town…heh, well it also was (you’ll see). The first establishment we entered turned out to be a private Mexican party/hoedown; the bar wasn’t the friendliest to a large Jew, and a small black guy. They actually kicked us out due to Nicholas being “underdressed.” OK, well I can understand that; he was wearing nothing but jeans and a wife-beater. So off we went.
The next bar we stumbled into was…heh, interesting. Everybody was really nice and friendly, pretty much the opposite of the Mexican bar we recently departed from. However, there was one hell of a weird vibe in there, the guys were being…unusually friendly towards me. Aaaaand pretty soon the drag show began. At this point, everything clicked into place and made sooo much sense. It was a gay bar. Nicholas and I had stumbled into a gay bar. It definitely explained why there was an odd vibe, why the men were overly flirtatious, and the girls were showing absolutely no interest in me. Not that I’m really, really, ridiculously good looking…well ok, I am, but still, someone other than a guy should have smacked my ass…which one did. The funniest part of the night was when Nicholas walked across the stage while a “girl” was “performing,” some guy was gonna punch him over it. Let me elaborate on the situation: The Mexican dude looked about 5’8” and 300 plus pounds; Nicholas is 5’1” and 125 pounds. So you can imagine how great it was when a drunken Nicholas gets confused and just stares down at this Lummox sitting and overflowing in the small chair. To me it was inevitable Nicholas would be the first to instigate the fight, Nicholas is the kinda guy that won’t back down from anyone, so I, of course, was instantly on my feet ready to help my wingman if a fight ensues, also trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation. Luckily when I stood up, the dude shuts up and then tells us he’s about to get the manager, problem solved. Nicholas walks away and that was that…somewhat anti-climactic, funniest part though was during the entire confrontation, the Announcer’s trying to get the attention of my wingman in a very cliché flamboyant voice like: “no walking across the stage honey, that’s right you in the wife-beater sweet-thing” It was good stuff. Good night. Good night.
