Friday, January 14, 2011

Bukake Dave

I've never been a fan of the club scene. I'm not a drinker, my dance moves are like some sort of 70s acid trip dry-heave only much less charming, and I dislike sweaty douchebags rubbing up against me as they peruse the crowd for their next score. But on the rare occasion you could find me at the bar. In Airdrie, the choices for our clubbing experience were quite slim. There were never more than three places to go; there was the hip young crowd bar (the name escapes me at this time because it changed names several times in a few years), the 20/30 something "place to be" called One Eyed Jacks, and the gross as fuck Old Hotel bar which swarmed with cougars and drunk rednecks and had music way too loud because the geriatrics had hearing problems. Therefore, can you really blame me for not getting "in" the bar scene? Exactly! So I kept away for the longest time.

In 1999, my girlfriend at the time dragged me to Senior Frog's on Halloween for some party thing. I didn't want to go. Shit I didn't want to go! I was so tired from work. When we got there, I sat at a booth and struggled to stay awake. A cute girl came up to the table and sat down. She asked if I was okay because I appeared to be down. I explained I was just tired and we began talking. My girlfriend returned to the table and appeared as though she were a wounded kitten. She didn't say anything until the cute girl left and then she expressed how disgusted she was that I flirted with another woman in front of her. What? There was no flirting. At least not from my end. Yet I got the cold shoulder for a week because of it! Girls are nuts! And I didn't want to go to a bar with her again.

In 2001 or 2002, peer pressure got the best of me. A couple of friends wanted to go to a new club that opened in Calgary called Twisted (this is not Twisted Element...Twisted lasted only a short time and was located across from Westbrook Mall where the big condos are now located). The dude on the radio was apparently on location at Twisted and Tammy wanted to meet him. So Tammy, Shawna, me, and Tammy's friend (name forgotten) went into Calgary. I was designated driver, of course, which leads me to believe they wanted me there simply as a safe way back home. Jerks.

All right, we get to Twisted and pay the five dollar cover to get in. Inside was nothing short of laughable. There were literally few than ten people in the whole place! And while the dude on the radio claimed to be on site, he was nowhere to be found. That's right, folks. Sometimes when the radio station says it's "on location," it's lying to you! We stayed for about five minutes, but because the place was so dead we decided to let it rest in peace. Shawna (I hate you for this) suggested we go to Outlaws instead.

Everyone in Calgary knows about Outlaws. It's not particularly exciting or interesting, but it had been open longer than a year and I guess that was worthy of garnishing popularity. So off we went to Outlaws instead. When we arrived, it was busy. It was a Friday evening, so what else would one expect. I remember feeling the beats from the bar as I sat in the car while I took a deep breath in preparation for a very long evening. We all went inside.

Well, as I walked inside, I immediately noticed that several women were checking me out. A lot of women. I must have been looking pretty hot to get that kind of reaction. I smiled at some of the ladies as they passed and Tammy, Shawna, Name Forgotten, and I went to sit down for a drink. I started bobbing my head to the beat...I was feeling pretty good to be getting eyed by girls left, right and center. Damn I was feeling good.
Until Tammy asked what was on my shirt. I looked down and noticed my white shirt had a spot on it that was glowing in the black light in the club. It was an odd streak of glow, like the shirt had been sprayed with something. Shawna said that it was the result of liquid detergent staining my was invisible in normal light, but black light made it glow brightly. The streak was small and I was not very concerned about it. I then looked at my shoulder and noticed another splotch of glow. I gazed down my shirt and saw several more little spots here and there...and everywhere! I stood up to look at the back of my shirt, and that's when Tammy said it.

"Dave! Look at your pants!"

And that's when I realized that the ladies weren't checking me out because I was attractive. They were checking me out because I had huge white blotches all over my body. The shirt was subtle because it was white, but the jeans had an incredible contrast. Dark wash jeans with sloshes of brilliant white glow all over them. It was like a tie-dye nightmare. Furthermore, the way the glowing patches looked on my jeans was like I was sprayed with something white...or sprayed with several things that sprayed something white...

Thus Bukake Dave.

Ugh. FML. I sat back down and tucked my body under the small round table as best I could. Perry arrived a short time later and wondered why I was hunched up close to the table. Upon my revealing my reason, he completely understood. Everyone got up to dance while I stayed almost unmoving. Tammy's hot friend Name Forgotten asked me to dance and I shot her down hardcore. How could I go dancing? I hate having attention drawn to me, and I couldn't dance worth shit...oh, and looking like I just crashed through a sperm bank wasn't helping at all.

I sat there for hours, dressed in my splooged attire from 10PM to last call at 2AM when they turned on the house lights. Oh those wonderful non-black light lights! Like bulbs from heaven, they shone down on me with if to say "It's okay, Dave. You've survived and you're free now." I got up and walked around to stretch my legs. Perry said goodbye and left while I retrieved my friends from the dance floor. Tammy was flirting with some dude who she'd met on the dance floor. She came over to Shawna, Name Forgotten, and me and she seemed absolutely smitten with this guy. night was far from over.

You see, earlier in the evening, Tammy confessed that she liked me. As in LIKE liked me. She was very pretty and really sweet, but she was several years my junior, and at 17 to my 23 was too much of an age difference at the time. Ergo, I shot her down. Upset, she went to the dance floor. There she met that guy.

After boasting about how wonderfully charming and good looking he was, Tammy revealed that he invited her (and her friends) across the street to his motel room to hang out. I didn't like the idea at all. Neither did Shawna or NF, but Tammy was very insistent. Since she had been upset earlier, we decided to let her have this one and hang out with the guy for a little while. We all drove across the street to the Travel Lodge and went to the dude's room. Well imagine our surprise when we discovered that the dude was a hockey player from some city out east. And imagine our shock when we discovered that HIS ENTIRE FUCKING TEAM was in his room! There were easily a dozen hockey players crammed in that little room...maybe more. Several made inappropriate comments and suggestions toward Shawna and NF. And dude had a chubber for Tammy and I was sure he wanted to get his freak on with her. Being the only guy with these ladies, I was understandably concerned. Hockey players under the wasn't a good scene, man. Shawna, NF, and I all told Tammy that we didn't feel comfortable in the situation and wanted to leave. After much prodding, Tammy reluctantly agreed to leave with us. We piled in the car and got the hell out of there as drunken jocks yelled profanities at us from their second floor motel walkway. One even through a bottle at the car but missed his mark by a few feet (or maybe that was his intention).

As I drove the girls back to Airdrie, Tammy refused to speak to any of us. She was pissed off. I suppose we had no right to drag her away from a total stranger who didn't live anywhere near her and clearly just wanted to get laid...But whatever! The sad thing is that I enjoyed Tammy's company and we got along quite well...yet after this event, Tammy never spoke to me again. She worked at Boston Pizza, a location at which I did some deliveries (when I worked with Meadowbrook Deliveries), and she would only say what needed to be said when I went in to pick up orders. It's so unfortunate that something so stupid could result in such behaviour, but that's how girls her age act I guess.

That was the last time I went to a club. I figured the fear of looking like I got in the way of a bull during an AI treatment was enough to keep me away. But let's face it...I mainly fear the bad things that seem to happen whenever I go to the bar. Now that you know this little secret, don't get all pissy when I shoot down your invite to hit up a new club. It's nothing personal. I'd just rather beat my face against a cactus for four hours instead of endure what will likely happen if I accompanied you to the bar.

I did learn an important lesson from that night at Outlaws though. I now always buy powder detergent. Thanks, life, for teaching me this valuable lesson. It's not like you could have just sent me a warning label or something...

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