I made it through the wilderness

Internets, I recently wrote about my affinity for 80s night at the local watering hole. I stopped by last night to meet Gymnast for a drink, intending only to stay for a teensy bit before heading home at a reasonable hour to fulfill my role as a responsible worker bee.

Well, as usual, it ended up being more out of control than one would expect for a Monday night (80 cent drinks really do draw out an energetic crowd!). The place was packed, people were dancing and demonstrating their love for each other all over, lyrics were yelled and fists were pumped. Stella lodged firmly in paw, Panda!!!! enjoyed watching the shenanigans from the sidelines and casting judgment with Gymnast.

The poor bouncer really does have his work cut out for him on 80s night. This man deserves a raise! Two incidents he had to deal with were particularly noteworthy in my mind:

The bar has circular metal tables, each about 3 feet in diameter, suspended from a central metal pole that’s bolted to the ceiling. When patrons get overly “ambitious,” they tend to treat the suspension pole as a stripper pole and the tabletop as a stripper box. Last night, the DJ (a big fan of Roommate A, by the way) played “Like a Virgin” and the crowd erupted in a crazed frenzy. One girl launched up on one of the tables and began gyrating away, pressing her hands all over her body and whipping her hair around her face, like “Coyote Ugly” meets Sacramento. The bouncer leapt to her side and started to pull her down from the table, but she thought it was her adoring public grasping at her legs, egging her on and upping the ante. When she realized she was being pulled down off the table, she went limp and crumpled to the ground, her plastic cup of 80-cent vodka drink tossed into the air, splashing onto nearby revelers. That was how she got back at the bouncer!

Shortly after, one bar patron pulled his t-shirt off over his head and started popping and locking frenetically, at his posse’s urging. The bouncer approached and casually informed him that toplessness was completely verboten. Well, his friends had a very “clever” idea about how they should exact their revenge. One friend handed over her tank top, a pretty baby blue number with spaghetti straps, and shirtless boy squeezed his torso into it. Yes, a grown-up man wearing a tiny baby blue tank top – that’ll show the bouncer! Proud of their subversive behavior, the group cheered and shot smug glances at the bouncer.

Ah, another 80s night! I left at the height of the madness, knowing that I had to be responsible at The Corporation this morning. Gymnast sent me a text after I returned home, letting me know that, shortly after my exit, the DJ played “The Promise.” Sad. I miss everything!