With the recent addition of a fatherly presence into the email dialogue I have decided that I must scale back on the subject matter. For I do not trust the capabilities of secretism when it bends under the will of a dominant figure with deflection as the only means of escape. This being said, I disagree, for the true essence of this dialogue is its freedom of speech towards anything the heart desires. So with that, I will include this disclaimer before I delve into actions that may bring my reputation into question.
The following events may/or may not be fictitious in nature. All People, Places and Substances may/or may not be in realm of truth, but they most likely are.
The sun shines through the window waking me from a deep slumber. My eyes slowly start to adjust to the morning glow bringing my room into focus. I rise from the sheets and take a deep breath, upon exhalation my mind comes to the realization that it is a special day. It is Saturday. The one day of the week where the notion of work is retreats to the far corners of my mind. Friday begins with work and Sunday ends with the idea of it, but Saturday looms large in front of me as I stand in its giant shadow of endless possibilities. I could bring my milk bag of a body to the gym, or get something done around the house. I could enjoy the wonders of the outdoors or maybe find a new hobby to occupy my time. I’ll think about it on the couch. My body acting like a sundial as the light moves around the room signaling the passage of the day. A knock at the door. The welcome return of an old friend starts to conjure ideas of the night ahead. He joins my roommates and I around the table as we regale each other with tales of times past. He knows where this night is headed, he always does yet it never seems to dawn on me that he is always looking for a good time. Jack Daniels by name, unstoppable force by nature. It begins.
Out the door and into the dark of night, one foot in front of the other towards a congregation of like minded males and females. The swaying of bodies goes unnoticed in the late evening haze as we make our way towards the Rhino. Around a corner brings into sight a line of inebriated individuals stretching into the distance. A complaint surfaces like it was an unexpected sight at this time of night. Walking past the men laden line up towards the entrance and handing the bouncer a queen Elizabeth opens the velvet rope. One more look back at the line to watch the men stare with disbelief while I flip them a mental finger and slip into the darkness. The overtly loud repetitive thumping greets your ears as you pack yourself into the crowd. Screaming above the roar of the swarm, you part the sea towards the wooden ledge of sustenance. The atmosphere becomes less and less of a problem and your awareness weakens as you guzzle down the liquid of choice. It seems all of jacks friends are here tonight.
The drunken haze continues and your peripherals weaken, narrowing your vision. The tongue loosens and a casual comment to the opposite sex seems to rile another male of the species. In a fit of bald rage he gives you a death stare and does not like your smiling response. A subtle ‘FAck Que’ is the only words that you can muster but they are lost in the deafening beat that has enveloped the crowd. Bursting through the door into the fresh night air is your only escape from the sweaty, alcohol driven sex romp that is taking place inside these walls. Realizing your fresh air is nothing but a façade of nicotine addicted dart hackers you return to the darkness from whence you came.
The clock strikes midnight and brings with it the understanding that nothing good happens in the early morning hours. A simple suggestion of another bar brings a welcome reprieve to the weary dancers and the Rhino is left behind. The cab driver drops us off in front of a neon sign that flickered …The Back Alley. An evil laugh cascading from the cab drivers window as he peels into the night making another buck from an uninformed belligerent passenger. The flash of a security camera re unites me with consciousness as my picture is taken. What place is this that I mus….and then I found out. The black light to strobe ratio is only matched by the amount of questionable women that roam inside these walls. A strut through the bar is like walking through a market watching them peddle their wares. Looking like a vacuous pit of self despair and pity they make themselves easy prey for a man who has no other options. I look to the heavens and stare at the beautiful full moon trying to regain my composure, until I realize that it is nothing more than the butt cheeks of an Asian woman dancing on the precipice above. Morals crushed and sensibilities weakened I find myself walking right past these women to the bar. Handing over money like drinks don’t have a price I find myself feeling strange. A building desire deep inside that is calling to me. Without knowing what my body was doing I find myself being dragged towards the center of the black hole. A feeling of calm passes through my body as I am no longer mashed into a crowd of people, a nice respite from the dancing below. The dancing below? I find myself now standing side by side with the full moon dancing on the ledge high above the pit below. I look out upon this scene of alcohol fueled grinding and wonder how many boners are being subdued by the butt cheeks that caused them. That’s it, I must go.
The sound of an ambulance makes me aware of the wall of beige that greets my eyes. As I take my face out of the corner of the couch I take a deep breath. The stagnant stench of a night of drinking causes me to gag and I realize it’s a special day. Its Sunday and I don’t have to drink tonight
