Phishr Chronicles

The following events took place April 21st 2006 in Ft. Smith, Arkansas.  I want to thank Amy for reminding me that no matter what river life puts in front of me, I will always caulk the wagon and float…

I remember alot of this night. But if you were there and you care to add on be my guest.

My college fraternity hosts a gala every year for all undergrads, alumni, and other chapter members are welcome to attend. This gala is a formal awards banquet. Most of the time this event is held in Oklahoma. MOST of the time. You see, our chapter has this problem with hotels not allowing us back the next year because of silly things like, broken furniture, puke in the fountains, elevator parties, and their inconsistancy of actually booking us in a block arrangement. (Scattering us about rather than putting us all on one floor.) So when then idea of “6 point beer” and “bars open til morning” added itself as a contestant we decided that Ft. Smith was the most intellegent solution.  

At the time I was dating “the Ex”. The whole way there we fought, argued, yelled, and basically did all except beat each other.  Upon arrival I hit the liquor store up cause quite frankly, it was gonna be “one of those nights”.  We settle into our room, get changed, argue, I chug Mickeys and watch hotel t.v. while I get criticized for “being too nonchalant” and “passive”. I continue to blow her off and zone into the t.v.

Dinner arrives, as does 40 “trying to hide it” drunk couples. We all rape the bar and throw our faces into the food like it was our last meal. I am sharing a table with my best friends and we all are pretty good off, meaning the ex and I were acting civil and laughing together. The ceremonies, as predicted, started out smooth and as time passed, everyone became more intoxicated and willing to give thir best Oscar speeches at the podium.  This meant that the speeches went from “I love this fraternity and I will give my all to watch it thrive in the future” to “I juss wanna thankk god and HEY fuck you cherry, i sheee yous flippin mes off back theree.. I’m gonna jam thisss damn trophy up yours fuckin az”…

The banquet ends and this is usually the part where all the guys run around shirtless in bowties and the girls have their hair all done up and small skimpy clothes on. Not I. I wear soccer socks, house shoes, swim trunks, and a black tshirt reminding you to “fuck milk got beer?”  Here so begins my demise.
I start by deciding to knock door to door, just to shop in everyones personal shot collection. Some rooms have jager, some rooms have soco, etc. etc.  As the ex and I walk by the pool I come to the conclusion that for one, “pools contain water.”  I was right!

The ex and I jump in screaming in the middle of the hotel around midnight. We raise all this hell and all everyone of the couples could do was to open their doors and cheer us on.  Then the law reared their ugly face.  We booked it up to the room. BUT not before I took my defining picture that was my best Jim morrison impression.

 We head back to the room with 3 others, ex and I included and progress into our shots and screaming off the outfacing balcony. Then I notice it. A random mexican heritage gentleman stumbling the streets.  “HOLA!” I yell. He waves like a drunk (a universal “I’m cool” gesture) so I wave him up. Everyone in the room shits… “What the HELL are you doing?” or “He’s gonna kill us!” was echoing thoughout the room. I don’t care. This guys legit you all. He enters.
Me- Hola! Habla Ingles?
Him- No. [points at himself] Alejandro!
Me- Matt! How cool! Cerveza?
Him-yayyy

[From this moment on, I am going to explain what happens. Note I was very drunk and did not catch on so quickly]

We continue to play music while everyone in the room is keeping one eye on my random foreign friend as we slam shots of Comfort and play air guitar. Alejandro then points at my chest and gives me the “flex” gesture. I comply. Alejandro tries to out do me. I smell a challenge abrewin. We continue flexing and all in all acting like body builders while everyone in the room stares at us in utter disbelief.  I know they are all laughing but I can still tell that they know something I don’t.

Everywhere I seem to sit, Alejandro sits right next to. No big deal, he is just shy to everyone else yet, I mean c’mon, I feel like I’m sittin in a room full of degenerates that will not accept my outside friend.  Ozzy Osbourne comes on the radio.  I stand up and give a much needed face melting guitar solo. Alejandro slaps my ass and says “Ossi Osborn, yes?” This is the ice breaker. Everyone in the room has just moved from Defcon 3 to Defcon 2. Alejandro proceeds to keep slapping my chest and speaking very fast broken spanish and laughing. I assume he is saying “yeah dude! You freaking rock!” in reality however it’s more on the lines of “i got a roofy and a dumpster with your name on it pat’na”.  I than remember that bars are open late in these neck of the woods.

The time now is around 1:30a.m.  I am calling EVERYONE in my phone trying to find the translation for “take me to the nearest bar”.  Of course all I remember is cantina. I begin to yell to Alejandro “Cantina Por Favor!” He fills with enthusiasm and rubs my thigh as he yells back SI! SI! I get weiry but soon settle back. “Come on everyone! Bar time!”.

Those 5 words recieved the same reaction as me telling everyone something like “Hey guys I got this dirty syringe! Lets play tag!”  They all knew I was beyond convincing otherwise, but being good friends and knowing that in order to save their own asses if something were to happen to me and I open the door crying at 6a.m. they could honestly say “WE TOLD YA!”  I am grabbed and taken outside. 
Skeet “Dude I’m not letting you go”
Me “MPHHFRUMMPPED DAMNIT YES…”
Skeet “I’ll kick your ass before you go”
Me “[insert collection of rambling and cursing]
Skeet “Ok, but I’m gonna kick your ass”

Needless to say, Alejandro and I set out on our journey.  I, having no shoes, no cash, no shirt, etc. and Alejandro promising me drinks on him. We approach a dark not well lit bar.  There is no beer advertisement outside and to all I knew, this is where CSI would be cleaning up my body parts the next morning. I assume it’s a dive and don’t even think twice.
I didn’t care, free booze.

We walk in and the door guy who was no longer than 50 wearing, I shit you not” a leather vest and leather hat took Alejandros money for our cover charge. I make a small insignificant peso joke. No one laughs. Time to kick it up. [still don’t know]

Some of you can already imagine what happens next because of the title. Screw you, you weren’t as drunk as me and it still seemed legit to me.

We walk to the bar, Alejandro jive walkin to the music. Me admiring my fluid like steps on the mirrors surrounding all four corners. [Still haven’t caught on]
At the bar I am yelling and laughing and everyone in the vicinity is laughing and buying drinks. This guy standing next to me throws his arm around me and announces to everyone that I’m taken care of. To him, I’m his. To me, I hope you can cover this asswhooping I’m gonna run up on your tab you so kindly are letting me. [STILL didn’t catch on]

After 4 or 5 blurry shots, an attractive girl (only one there) approaches and asks what I am doing here.  I just tell her “My new buddy said he’d cover me in here so I agreed to come up”. She laughs and tells me she “knew I didn’t fit in”. I take this as an insult. Like I’m not ”Ft. Smith” enough for these d-bags? Whatever you’re like the only cute girl in here. Lets do shots. [Nope, not yet]
I soon have to pee cause thats what you do when drinking as much as I did.  I cannot distinguish which is the mens room and which is… this other room.  I choose the one all the fellas are walking into. I pee, I crack urinal jokes, guys laugh, I feel awkward stares, I ignore this awkwardness with the thrill of more free drinks. I walk out. [not yet… but getting warmer…]

At the bar I ask cute girl to dance.  The inside of this bar reminding me of somthing you would see in Studio 54. Mirrors, poles, platforms, lights, me not wearing but a pair of swim trunks.  She tells me to go on alone, she will cheer for me. I do what drunk Matt does. I find the object that will divert the most attention to me, and I exploit it.  This being a 12 foot pole in the middle of the bar. I start dancing. Yeah.. I did.. The DJ even played a song for me. I would have remembered the song because of the meaning it held today, but I didn’t care. I was retarded drunk. Hell I could have probably had a brain aneurysm if I would have had to tie my shoes.  

In my life I have done some amazingly stupid things. I have learned my lesson from a vast majority, and as I get older I look back on my lessons.  But one stands out in my mind that I wll never forget…
 Twirling on that pole, guys were standing around the platform and yelling at me
[Still didn’t get it]
Some guys were reaching up and tugging at my trunks.
[Still didn’t get it]
I notice while spinning that 2 MEN are making out in the corner
[Odd.. But still didn’t get it]
I am being called girlfriend…
[Why? I’m not a girl? I don’t get it?]
As I spin 360’s on the pole I am getting a good view of the whole bar, and then it happened.  I noticed the lacking numbers of the “female genre” in the establishment.  Out of all the times I should have bit my tongue in life, I didn’t.

“Hey y’all! WHERE’S ALL THE PUS…..”
[oh…. no….way…. ]
Faster than the knife swipe from O.J. it hit me. I am in a total gay bar.
Over 40 reasonable excuses to notice this.. and I find out. At 2:55am.

Imagine this.  Flock of Seagulls “I ran so far away” playing. Me in trunks.  Downtown Ft.Smith. Running and looking for a Howard Johnson sign. Whimpering.

I got back around 4a.m. everyone asleep. I wake the ex up.

“Babydoll, I just got tricked into an all night gaybar by a 30 year old mexican that couldn’t speak english and I almost died.”

“Serves you right. I hate you”.