So, Aimee suggested we hit the bars. We hit a bar because we're getting too old to "hit the bars". The bar we picked is normally within walking distance of the house, however, due to the current crippled state of things, we drove. I then hobbled out of the car, down the stairs and we were promptly greeted by many, many, many, men. I think there were three other girls in the bar and they were very, very drunk. The kind of drunk you don't let your friends get in public. At that point you're dragging them and their loud, slurred words out the door and hoping they go quietly. But, Sarah was sold on the $1 corn dog promo, so we stayed.
Aimee walked up to the bar to order. As we approached, we were greeted by the best pickup line ever. "Hi, I'm a prick. Name's Ernest." Oh, my, I was sold!!! Never fear, it was quickly saved by, "No, really, I'm an ass. I won't call you in the morning, but mind if I join you?"
Well, he had us at hello. We introduced ourselves. Aimee's being the shortest and sweetest of the intros: "Hi, I'm Aimee and I'm married." If Sarah and I had only had that out... Throughout the evening, he regaled us with many great stories and one liners about Phoenix, where he supposedly lived, and British Columbia, where he was supposedly from. While he was talking, Aimee left to follow a bar fight up the stairs. Sarah tried to go too, but I reminded her that I was a cripple and she should NOT, under any circumstances, leave me with a strange Canadian. Post bar fight, he continued to charm us with more great stories. But all good things must end.
He had left our table and had gone to the bar to get what I can only assume was his 18th Pale Ale, and some time between that moment and the next one had managed to piss off someone enough so that our next meeting with Ernest involved grabbing our bags from the table so we wouldn't get hit by his body which had just been hit off a bar stool and was moving quickly and uncontrollably towards our table.
There was then some wrestling on the floor, some gallant fight breaking upping, and some slurred denials of guilt.
Although that was damn funny, we decided to call it quits for fear of ending up in the emergency room or having to endure any more stories about bikes, Phoenix, or Canada. Having not witnessed a bar fight since about 2002 (my last year in college), this was a good reminder of why you should always follow certain rules when going to bars so you don't end up face down in a plate of corn dogs after a $100 bar tab...
- Travel in groups, but makes sure the people in your group like you.
- Be careful when they offer $1 corn dog night as the promo.
- If ESPN can not be found anywhere in the bar, you're taking your chances.
- Check your bill at the end. You may be more sober than your bartender.
- Never leave a man behind.
- I can't stress enough about the corn dog thing...
