Random Thoughts.....What Are You Thinking?

Saturday I met two of Long Beach’s Finest. The story:

Max(gay best friend), Jeff(strait rich friend that pays for all my drinks(21 from 1-2 storys ago)), and I are sitting around at my place drinking and playing halo poorly. We are debating where we want to go. Max and I both want to go to a gay bar, but Jeff seems rather opposed to the whole concept. I insist I will teach him the rules of how to be a strait guy in a gay bar and still get laid, but he just wont budge on the issue. We try to get him more drunk, but he has learned that you don’t get drunk while having a debate that matters. I have taught him well. We concede, and agree to go to a strait bar. He lets us lead the way to the bar. I haven’t taught him well enough.

Upon arriving in front of our destination, Jeff correctly assumes the client base. “You ***, we agreed to go to a strait bar.” Perfect word choice Jeff. The 10 people around us all decided to get offended including the bouncer. I don’t know how Max soothed the crowd and got the bouncer to let us in, I was busy coaching Jeff. The rules I can remember saying: ANY STRAIT PERSON READING THIS SHOULD WRITE THE FOLLOWING RULES ON A FLASH CARD AND KEEP IT IN YOUR WALLET IF YOU CAN IMAGINE ANY SITUATION WHERE YOU COULD EVER END UP IN A GAY BAR!:

Rule 1) Unless you like your drinks to be neon colored, DO NOT let anyone order/pick a drink for you. This includes the bartender. Such phrases as “Just give me something strong” or “Do you have a signature drink” NEED to be avoided.

Rule 2) Your targets are strait girls. Their soberselves came to “just dance”. Their drunkselves will be regretting surrounding themselves with hot shirtless guys that aren’t interested in them. Look for groups of 5+ girls, or groups of 6+ people that is less than 1/3rd female. Any girl that is alone or in a pair is gay.

Rule 3) DO NOT GO ON THE DANCE FLOOR. Reason 1: The girls still dancing are still in “just to dance” mode. If you try to dance with them they will think you are gay and chances with her will be shot for the rest of the night. Reason 2: All the guys will assume you are gay too. Unless finding out how it feels to be a hot girl in a strait club is on your to do list, you wont enjoy this.

Rule 4) Be open about being strait, accept that gay guys will try to hit on you. Draw a firm line in the sand that you will do nothing with them. You can’t tell them to go *** off with out looking like a creeper that just came to pick up drunk girls with their defenses down, but you CAN NOT give them the slightest hint that you are a possibility.

There may have been more rules, but they were not important compared to the above. We get inside and almost immediately Jeff sees an ideal group. A young group of 6 girls and 3 guys, 2 of the guys are very well dressed, one of them in particular catches my eye. I order 2 of whatever the cute guy is drinking. Its some orange soda/vodka mixer that couldn’t be more orange if it was a glass of food coloring. Jeff gives me a “What about the rules?” look.

“This simply proves me right.”

I integrate myself into the group the best way drunk me knows how: establish some form of superiority over the group so they cant force me to leave. Given that the group consists of a bunch of skinny white girls and their effeminate gay friends, I decide 15 pounds and about a .5 BAC lead are enough to establish this. It works flawlessly and within 3 minutes I’m talking to my guy. Jeff basks in my victory by coming over after. Max decides to head to the dance floor.

I become the center of attention quicker than normal. I begin to worry that the food coloring I’m drinking has more alcohol in it than I thought it did. Then I notice if they aren’t paying attention to me, they are paying attention to JEFF! Now, if you knew Jeff, you would know there was something wrong with this.
I put it out of my mind, and continue to get drunk while talking to my guy. An hour or so passes.

What happens next, I can only describe as a really lackluster raid. The music was turned down, the lights went to full and suddenly the number of people in police outfits tripled. Whatever, I’m 21. I try to ignore it and keep having a good time, but my table is absolutely silent other than 1-2 girls that are on the verge of tears. 2 officers come to our table and ask to see Ids. Jeff and I both produce ours. No one else at the table is moving.

Oh no.

The cops ask again, reluctantly they start producing Ids. The girl Jeff has been hitting on is 18. I begin making fun of him for hitting on a high school student. I don’t have the foresight to think I’m about to be in the same situation. One of the cops tells me to shut up. My guy shows them his ID. He is 17.

Oh no.

I’m a 21 year old guy drinking/flirting with a 17 year old guy. I’m momentarily glad I don’t live in a close minded state, as I would likely be beaten to death for being in this situation. It doesn’t last long as its still a really bad situation to be in. Jeff gets in a well deserved “If its any consolation, at least he’s not the youngest person at the table.” before getting a stern look from the cops. Time passes.

Once the cops have gotten information for almost everyone that was underage, the “real offenders” get singled out while the club gets back into motion. That means me and the manager of the night club. The same two police officers that were at my table are interviewing me about what happened. Both of them are easily 20 pounds heavier than me, and its all muscle. I try to feel superior because of my higher BAC, but it just doesn’t work.

I insist(truely) I didn’t know that he was underage, I insist I didn’t buy him drinks. When asked why I ordered 2 of whatever he was drinking, I insisted I drank both myself. I’m about ready to start crying and begging not to be registered as a pedophile when I notice its been like 40 minutes and they haven’t actually taken down my information. I begin to calm down. I stand by my position, but explain to them that getting really drunk and making poor life decisions is a pretty common occurrence for me. I tell them a story or two and they seem to think its fun. One of them starts telling me a story about when he was 22 before is partner gives him a rather strong nudge. They let me go with a “very stern” warning.

I head back to talk with Max and Jeff. Max had been completely unaffected by the whole ordeal. As I’m explaining the whole situation, someone decides he “doesn’t like pedos like me” and that I should leave.

Rule 5) This applies to strait clubs or gay clubs: If someone tries to pick a fight with you, NEVER let them pick the rules of engagement. If they are trying to insult you, and you respond to an insult they intrinsically have the upper hand. You are acknowledging they have insulted you in a way that matters to you. The correct course of action is just to insult them back till they get bored or you find something that they will respond to so you can define the rules of the insult fight.

I respond back “Dude, you are just jealous I’m a mad *** Cougar.” Keeping in mind I was being interrogated by cops about this less than 10 minutes prior, this was a REALLY stupid time to break one of my rules. I don’t know if the guy had been abused as a kid, or the fact I was acting proud about the situation(I really wasn’t but when you are drunk and embarrassed there’s only so much you can do), but he decided I needed the Pedo beat out of me. Luckily, he was as drunk as me(well, maybe not as drunk, but close), and missed the first swing. A well placed punch to the stomach (Rule 6: Always go for the stomach in a bar fight) on my part sent him retching. I felt masculine again.

Until my Cop friends reminded me that people that were stronger than me and not drunk were in the bar. Cop1 “What the *** is going on”. 15 years of maturing and conversation skills vanish. 6 year old me takes over.

“HE STARTED IT!!!”

The people around me confirm that the other guy not only threw the first punch but was the one to instigate the whole conflict. My Cop friends suggest that I should probably go home. Given that its been less than 3 hours since I left my house, I’m reluctant to accept this advice. They insist. I say that it sounds like good advice but ONLY IF THEY DRIVE ME HOME.

What? Don’t ask me what was going through my head. (Because I’m fairly sure they were allowed to do any of this I’m going to say that this next part is all fiction.)

They say they “are about done here” and that they will if its close. I tell them where I live and they agree to drive me the mile or so home. Things about getting a ride home in the backseat of a police car: 1) It WILL make you feel like a bad ***. 2) You cant open the door from the inside. They rolled the window down for me. 3) It has numerous advantages if the Cops driving you are cool because you can have them:

*Drive by Frat houses having parties and turn on their sirens. You WILL see underage college students scatter like roaches.

*Pull up next to hot drunk girls walking on the sidewalk so you can ask “Hey babe, want a ride to my house?” (One honestly *** said yes, but they wouldn’t let me invite her in. Something about if I murdered her they would be accessories)

They were getting a kick out of my drunk ideas, but I had to get out before I could think of anything else to ask them to do. Something happened that they actually had to go do their job. So they had me get out about 2 blocks away from my house. A few people, seeing me jump out of a Cop car before it sped off with sirens roaring, swarmed around me. I did go to a bar with them, but it was a normal night for me beyond that point. I truly cant get over how awesome those officers were.

or dropped on his head <,<