13 May 2011

200 Shots

People with corporate credit cards at bars always make for an interesting time and are probably a huge contributing reason why this country is in the debt it's in – well, that and the use of the company card for hotel rooms over lunch time for the romp sesh with the admin in accounting. I was out recently for a weekday happy hour with a few friends downtown and we were at a popular spot – far from upscale (you can get 40s of Old E and Miller High Life is being consumed like Crystal), but it is a great place to take in a sports game which was the reason we were out. As always, we thought we were self contained at our high top table in the corner and once again – that was not in the Cosmo’s cards for how the night was going to play out.

It wasn’t super packed but there was a decent enough crowd and there was definitely a huge group of out of towners, you can always tell because they walk just a little douchier with too much to prove for no legitimate reason. As we’re watching the game, we make friends with a college couple road-tripping up and down the coast for spring break so we’re telling them all the hot spots they should hit the following day before they make their way north. Lovely couple, but I do think they will both be single and fabulous by the time this adventure of theirs is over – young love and 10 days in confined spaces with bad directions and no GPS doesn’t always make for the best environment to grow a newly, budding relationship but maybe they can find a way to be the exception . . . haha.

About half-way through the baseball game we were there to watch, Trevor comes over and informs my girls and me that he was in town for a business meeting (he sells something, too bad it isn’t personalities because he could really use one and like the most upgraded platinum version) and has a corporate tab open so we should just put our drinks on that. We know the bartender so we don’t pay for much of what we drink anyway and we’re talking about a place that has $2 beers and $5 heavily mixed drinks – so really, it’s not like we’re at the martini bar and he’s covering our usual $200+ tab. Trevor walks away to schmooze and get rejected by more of our city’s finest. He was also eye-fucking bartender Mike like that was his job but Mike is too much of a boobs and lady parts man to ever entertain the likes of doucher Trevor. Trevor is drinking another Smirnoff and Diet with a twist – who drinks that at 35 years old? Anyway, he comes back over to our table and informs me that he just ordered 200 shots – Mike was making 2 kinds. 200 SHOTS!! – there were maybe 30 people in the bar at this point, none of which were turning 21 – WHO DOES THAT? Apparently Trevor was trying to run his tab up to $5,000.00 – dude you can buy the bar for that much or give it to me for having to deal with you.

Anyway, Mike finishes making all 200 shots after like ½ hr – there was a greenish looking one and a reddish looking one. Mike was not really a fan of Trevor, no one was and also he didn’t want to have 30 slizzered people in his bar at 9:15 on a Thursday evening so they weren’t his typical shots that you just want to make out with the glass when you’re done because it was THAT good. So my crew and I had a few of each color – my friends make a bathroom trip while I close out our tab and bid Trevor "adieu." He moves in for the make out sesh, insert a big fatty WTF from me as I am wide eyed and my tongue is coated in nasty cheap red shot residue and I’m thinking – um mofo, you like boys, I like boys and I really don’t like you so wtf plus you can’t kiss for shit and I’m kinda drunk but you still suck. I inform him that I am nobody’s whore and act all insulted and storm out in a most dramatic of natures – sometimes you have to liven up the theatrical performance since things like this are a quasi regular situation – well sans the 200 pussy shots as they became known after that night.

My friends and I got in a cab and went to our favorite watering hole and ordered a round of grey goose lemondrops – if you’re gonna make it a shots kind of night, make it the good kind! We debriefed on how real men don’t drink Smirnoff and diet when there are better options available, you don’t try to show off your black amex at a dive bar and if you like men, just like men, don’t try to kiss a chick who doesn’t want your lip service! Such is life in the city on a thirsty Thursday night - I’m putting that bar on probation for a while, although the establishment itself did not wrong me, the lingering funk on my tongue from too many bad shots and too many hot seconds of a horrible kiss is still too fresh.

Point of Conversation: Pretty Woman didn’t have to do 200 shots in 1 night to be wined and dined and you shouldn’t either and she actually was somebody’s whore. 

- Scarlett

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