| knowing how to take a punch. | by marasmus |
| I had a great weekend. Really, it was incredible. It was the kind of weekend that I'll be laughing about for the next 30 years, whenever I see anyone doing coke, getting thrown over a railing into the river, or getting bulldogged into the gravel. This story may not show me in the best light, but I've never been one to shy away from the truth, so enjoy it for what it is.
On most weekends, we (Frank, Frank's pop, Forge, Preston, and a few other rowdy friends) normally hop on our bikes and go bar-hopping. Depending on the night we may hit anywhere from 3 to 10 bars, looking for entertainment, laughs, people to harass, and whiskey bottles to crawl waaaay deep into. Most of the bars are complete shitholes, and we like 'em better that way... Watching cross-eyed, toothless inbred backwoods swamp beasts try to dance to equally cross-eyed, toothless inbred local bands starts giving rise to all sorts of new drinking games, such as "take a shot every time he wipes his nose on her dress" or "chug it till [s]he gets up off the floor" (a good way to not make it to the next bar). This weekend was no different. We started early (10pm or so) and hit most of the normal stops... Gasoline Alley, JJ's, TwoBuks, Hennessey's... then we decided to try out a bar we'd never crashed before, called Dockside. Like the name says, there's a dock. And wherever water and drunk people meet makes for a REALLY interesting night. So at something like 1:30 in the morning we roll into dockside. The parking BLOWS - it's a gravel and loose rock lot, and cars are just strewn about randomly. There's no safe place to park our bikes without some drunk asshole plowing them all over. Eventually we see the boat launch (which conveniently runs RIGHT next to the live band), so we pull down there to park. Of course, there's a stewed, beer-sweat-stained patron standing (read: stumbling) right in front of where we are trying to park. He's giving us the 'rip the throttle' gesture, so Frank obliges. Nobody can hear the band anymore. Then I oblige, twice, all the way to the 7K redline. The band stops playing. Then Forge gives them the what-for, just in case someone within the surrounding 5 miles just happened to miss the fact that we arrived. It turns out the bar doesn't serve liquor, just shitty tap beer. The best they have is Amber Bock. But we've already started warming up our drinking with good ole Maker's Mark and Jim Beam Black. Like most nights, we pretty much wait till the last bar to get completely stinko. This time, we're out of luck. We're about to leave when someone tells us there's a house party next door (on the other side of the boat launch) where they're serving liquor. SCORE! After a round of double jack daniels on the rocks, things are looking good. There's a pontoon boat and GOD DAMN nobody's gonna stop stale from trying his damnedest to steal it. It's a shame he knows about as much about boats as he does about pottery. After a minute of him fumbling around, he gives up and comes back defeated. Shortly after (hell, it might've been just before, I was drunk by that point) a DJ shows up and starts not-really-mixing the typical dull techno mixes that every nobody-party-dj in the world mixes. At least there's music other than the Stone Temple Pilots cover band next door, cause they sucked. Frank Sr heads on home cause the music sucks and it's late anyways. The rest of us stay and we run into some people from Tampa Racing, some of whom were drunk beyond the definition of the word. Embalmed would be a bit closer to the truth, but still not drastic enough. At some point it becomes a bright idea for Frank to challenge me to go drink-by-drink down the railing (there are TONS of abandoned beverages) and just plow 'em. Drunk (and stupid) enough, they go down BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! one after another. I give Frank the "if you'll eat pussy, you'll eat(well,drink) this" look, so he goes down his closest railing like BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! knockin' em out like George Foreman. NOW the night is going! It's a bit of a blur from that point, but I remember us doing acrobatics off a porch swing, getting my ass slapped (while upside-down) by some girl dressed up like Marilyn Monroe, pissing off the dock a couple times, laughing at the bartenders as we drink the drinks other people abandoned, and eventually laying back on the bike to take a short rest. And then I wake up. I find out later it's around 4:30 in the morning. I hear someone yelling, "don't you EVER touch my girlfriend, motherfucker!", so I open my eyes to watch what's obviously going to be quite the spectacle. I see this one guy trying to throw another guy over the railing, into the Hillsborough river, but he's being held back by 4 or 5 other guys! Eventually the mob of guys gets the two spread apart and tell the "tosser" that he's got to leave and that they've called the cops. Even with 5 guys trying to drag him, he won't leave. After a minute or two of this, they come to find out that he won't leave because his girlfriend's still somewhere in the party. He points her out (she's all getting up in someone else's face), so one guy goes and tells her she's got to leave with her boyfriend. She's just as pissed off and refuses to leave. The guy (he might've lived there, he seemed in charge of things) just grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off the porch, down the stairs and onto the boat launch, about 10 feet in front of where I'm lounging. All the while the girl is screaming and yelling and trying to punch the guy who's dragging her out. Since I'll definitely miss my view of the action with my feet on the handlebars and my head on the sissy bar, I actually sit up to watch the excitement. This is the best bar-esque drama I've seen in ages! The girl keeps trying to rush the stairs, yelling to let go of her. After three or four attempts, the guy asks her why the hell she wants to go back up there. At that point she says, "I want my MOTHAFUCKIN' SHOE!" while holding up one tattered, heel-broken nappy $7.99 black shoe. By this point I'm laughing so hard I'm almost crying.. this is absolutely the funniest shit in the WORLD to a person who's piss-drunk and has only been awake about 2 minutes. I stand up and step my 2 or 3 steps over, intending to offer to find her shoe. Before I can open my mouth, the guy asks me if I could keep her away from the stairs while he finds her shoe. I'm like, "Sure, no problem!" while trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing. The girl's looking down, fidgeting, moving uneasy, rubbing a strap on her remaining shoe. In order to stop laughing, I try to say something nice - "He'll be right back with your sho-" Not a split second after the "sh" came out of my mouth, she remembers that she wants her motherfuckin' shoe, so she tries to rush the stairs again. I get in her way and after a few unsuccessful lunges she stops for a moment, but keeps pacing and fidgeting. Sure, I'm half-asleep, but this girl's GOT to be on something. God knows what, I've been asleep for who-knows how long. Feeling kind of uneasy about the situation, I try to crack a joke... "Hey, ya know I'm really not in the mood to choke anyone tonigh-" "WHAT!?!@#?!" she screams, and starts flailing her purse and shoe-remainder at me, eventually losing both as I block them, still punching. I push her away, she comes back. I push her away again, she comes back again, firey-eyed. Cocaine-eyed. Tweakin'. Aww shit, I'm in one fucking bad situation now. I hear the boyfriend (still being escorted/dragged/etc by 4 or 5 guys) yell "Don't touch my girlfriend, motherfucker!", but by the time that registered I had already made my move. I grabbed the girl's right wrist, spun her arm behind her back, and twisted while I grabbed her left arm just above the elbow and pushed her to the gound, forcing her left arm palm-down so she couldn't hit me. No sooner do I get her immobilized by kneeling one knee on her back than the boyfriend comes (breaking free from the holding crew) flying down from the stairs and swings at me. I duck, he misses, but his force pulls me away from the girlfriend. I'm all tangled up with this crazy coked-up fucker now. He tries to make some swings but is flailing too much to land much of anything. He lands a right to my lip, giving me a pretty good cut inside the lip, about an inch long. The crew of guys catch up and tackle him while I get up. I just shake my head - what the hell else could I do in the situation? I wasn't pissed at either the guy or the girl, they were just too drunk and tweaked out to control themselves. That's certainly no excuse, but getting pissed wouldn't have done me any good. So I shake it off, sigh and go to reach for a cigarette. By this time the boyfriend has apparently calmed down a little bit and the mob eases their grip on him. I walk towards the bike (where Forge is) and before ANYone could blink the fuckstick sucker-punches me! He lunged so hard he fell from his own blow... and at that moment I was livid. Those of you who know me well know I am NOT to be fucked with when I'm livid. I've got a long fuse and a BIG charge. But before I can make a move, the crew of guys DIVE on both of us, totally covering me up before I get to throw anything back. The risk of knocking body parts off of someone who doesn't deserve it immediately makes me calm back down. I get up and the right side of my face feels a little warm in the mid-60's breeze. I step over to Forge (now standing next to the pile, at the cokehead's feet) and ask him if I'm bleeding a little. His eyebrow-lifted, slow response told me I was bleeding more than a little bit. Then Forge said, "Don't worry, I got him for ya'." ...and then the pile of guys picked up Mr. Cokey... His nose was split and sideways to the point I wasn't sure if it was still attached to his face, and there was a 2-inch-wide stripe of solid blood going from his nose through his mouth and down his chin. He was dazed and seriously fucked up!! Forge broke the hell out of the guy in one punch! By this point the cops have DEFINITELY been called, even if the people were lying before. There's blood all over the place. Cokey is now getting literally dragged against his will by 7 guys, still screaming at people and threatening ANYONE he sees. The girlfriend's still coked up, but pretty calm by now. I taste a bit of blood, and that's when I find out my lip got cut inside. I spit out some blood and check myself out in the reflection of a window. Pretty bad. I see flashing lights (turns out to be the fire department and an ambulance), so I turn to Forge and tell him we've got to get the fuck outta Dodge. He agrees, and then we realize that Frank isn't in sight! Glancing around for him, I give him a call and tell him we've got to go. He's so drunk I don't know how he even answered the phone! I fell Forge I've got to roll, cause lots of blood (and bulldogging a girl in front of 20+ witnesses) doesn't go over well with the cops. He decides to stick around till Frank stumbles around and I take the fuck off. I wasn't dressed for the 59 degrees it was that night... jeans, T-shirt and a light jacket. It was one damn cold ride home, with the trickling blood chilling my face! I get home only to realize I didn't bring my keys with me, cause I was riding Forge's Shadow 1100. I try all the doors, locked. SHIT... now I'm locked outside, bleeding profusely, and Frank and Forge probably won't be home anytime soon. As I'm walking around to the front of the house again, a sheriff's officer drives by slowly, sees me (still wearing my psycho half-helmet, goggles, and gauntlets), probably sees the blood too, and decides he doesn't want to know why I'm walking around a house, bleeding, dressed like that, at 5 in the morning. He just keeps on rolling. After a minute or so I remember the garage has a side window that's missing a pane... I knock out the screen, climb in, drip over the oil drain pan (THANKS FRANK, you SUCK!) and jam my finger on the engine hoist while catching myself (and trying like HELL not to land on my Magna). I get up and luckily the inside garage door was unlocked. I finally got to go in, clean up and try to get some sleep. And now, for the pictures of my awesome black eye! Well I hope you've enjoyed my humiliating story about having to bulldog a girl, and Forge shattering some asshole's face. Although I'll never, ever live it down, at least I now know not to fuck with people who are way high on cocaine! -Laird | |
| Re: knowing how to take a punch. | by caridwen |
| FUCKIN' A! | |
| Re: knowing how to take a punch. | by forge |
| I'm a bad motherfucker, and you just can't understand it... | |
| Re: knowing how to take a punch. | by stale |
| Shit like this always happens when I drink Jack... | |
| Re: knowing how to take a punch. | by scrantoine |
| God damn, I need to party with you guys! | |
| Re: knowing how to take a punch. | by smokey |
| I need to get my ass back to FL. That sounds like my kinda night. | |