FLORIDA vs. ALABAMA… and no, this isn’t about football
First of all, I would like to say that I am not super proud of what happened. But I would like to point out that it did feel pretty damn good.
Second, I haven’t been to the Florabama in almost a decade. And now I remember why I don’t frequent there.
Well, last night was my first party bus experience. I imagine that it is a pretty prolific occupation to be in charge of a party bus. I also imagine it is one of the craziest occupations to have and definitely a great situation for people watching.
Will and Melanie were having their Going Away Extravaganza in style by renting a party bus for the night. First, the Florabama. Then, Tippy’s Tavern. And last, Gene’s Lounge. Wow. What an experience this was going to be. Gabe brought a whole pint of Jagermeister, which he had surely planned not to share. Tony brought bottled water; just like an apprentice to want to stay sober to keep things under control. KC and I brought nothing. We didn’t know the rules of partying on a party bus.
Well, we started things with some Bud Lite w/Lime. The first bottle was actually quite tasty. The second bottle… piss. Thank God we had arrived at the Florabama, right? I mean, I really didn’t want to finish that second bottle and I was pretty hungry. But unfortunately, Susan had given me a shot of Patron before we departed the party bus.
Well, we went to the bar and ordered a drink. Gabe decided that he would make a lovely conversation with the young man next to him about how gay he looked. The guy was pretty cool about it and proceeded to joke with Gabe whom introduced Tony as his life-partner. I patted the young man on the back and told him he was a good sport. But this asinine twerp about 3 people back from us started yelling,”Hey! You must be from Atlanta!!!” Gabe was indeed wearing his Braves hat and retorted,”Shut up, you dipshit! You don’t know anything about Atlanta!” And here we go…
So, the guy continues to yell about this hat and Gabe continues to tell him in many different ways how he can stop talking. But my attention shifted to a dumb, redneck girl that was probably 10 years younger than me who had started yelling,”Hey! I’m from Atlanta! Hey! I’m from there!” literally after every sentence Gabe said. In my mind, I started wondering why she even got involved in the cussing back and forth, and then I just simply thought,’She is just being an attention whore. Yep. Nothing better to do than be the center of attention.’ That became clear as I realized that her bright coral tank top was the only bright thing about her. Although, her boobs were as real as her personality and I am sure she wore that color to accentuate that aspect. What a winner. At least it distracted me from looking at her ‘i’ve-been-around-the-block-way-too-many-times-for-a-girl-in-her-twenties’ face. Striking. But not in a good way.
Well, I turned back around to hand our awesome bartender a $20 tip for putting up with this banter. She was solid. But to my surprise when I turned back to Gabe he was yelling at a manager and hatless. WHAT?! I only looked away for a moment! It turns out that they girl desperately seeking attention had taken Gabe’s hat and threw it into the next room. Wow. We are adults, obviously. So, it begins.
We go out to talk to this manager guy. Gabe is distraught and completely giving the guy a lesson in semantics, debate, common sense, respect and civil society. I am watching the boyfriend of this unintelligent broad who was now trying to apologize to Gabe without really saying sorry. The girl pokes her head through the plastic curtain used to keep the elements out of the establishment and starts yelling for her boyfriend. He looks at her, shakes his hand to go away and mouths ‘Stooooooop it…’ repeatedly. She continues yelling at him and I bite my tongue. He then takes her away and I watch this conversation via reading lips and I realize that one of his arms is in a cast. My guess is it’s her fault that he has an injury and he is trying to calm her down and get her under control. I imagine him say,”I can’t get you out of this if you don’t quit.” or something like that, to which she then mouths the two words that send me off. “FUCK HIM.”
I glare and continue to watch this conversation and she notices me and starts smiling, waving and blowing kisses at me. I look at her and hold my arm out. My index finger is slowly imitating a windshield wiper as I shake my head. Nobody likes to be treated like a child or looked upon in total disappointment. I could tell in her eyes that I had ignited a fire. I could almost see smoke exiting through her mouth as she grinned back at me and she threw her hand up in an L on her forehead. WAIT… Hold on a minute… what decade are we in?! I could have sworn we were in the 2000s. Am I in 8th grade??? Is she really holding up the “LOSER” gesture on her fore-, I mean, fivehead??? Wooooooooooooooooooow…
I just shook my head and turned around.
We went back in so Tony could finish his poboy and I see a bright coral mass bouncing up and down out of the corner of my eye. Yeah. She was still at it. I chose to ignore her because I really didn’t want to exhaust myself anymore with the likes of this unintelligent mess of a human being, but all of a sudden I hear,”Hey! Do you wanna take this outside?” and as I look up, it’s her directly across this bar table I’m standing at. KC is to my left and Tony is on my right as I throw my open hand in her face and yell,”GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH BRAIN CELLS FOR ME TO TALK YOU, SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” at the top of my lungs so everyone around me can hear me and witness.
She continues to attempt to talk over me as I repeat these lines over and over. I had already broken up the ice in my bushwacker and played two separate fight scenes in my mind, much like the new Sherlock Holmes movies (reference: 1:37). One involved a jump kick to the Xiphoid Process followed by both my knees on her biceps while I sat on that $3000 rack and repeatedly pummel her already haggered face with my fists the way my father taught me how to throw a punch. I calculated that I might get 6-7 good punches. The other scene involved me letting her get close, pulling her by her ponytail with my right hand, using my open left palm in a 45 degree upward motion at the bridge of her nose, then taking that arm and wrapping her left arm at the pit as I simultaneously push my right knee in to back of her left knee and force her to kiss the ground repeatedly. I only calculated 3 times before I get pulled off of her and I’m on my way to jail.
But… like a coward she starts screaming,”Really?! What degree do you have? What degree do you have? What degree do you have?” as I’m thinking, like I’m really going to have this conversation with the likes of you and repeat for her to shut up like a broken record and that is when she did it. She pushed KC’s drink that was sitting so conveniently in front of him towards me. My drink stirring for the past 17 minutes had finally paid off! In slow motion, I grab my drink in my right hand and calculate the most effective area of her body for maximum damage. Not the face. The drink would go everywhere and get on innocent bystanders. Not the stomach. The execution would leave too much unscathed. Not the head. It would only drip down and possibly be a complete waste.
Ah… the breasts she really paid way too much money for.
My hand projects from my elbow and quickly halts about 6 inches from her chest. The bushwacker then catapults while keeping it’s cup form and upon contact disperses in all directions covering the chest, stomach, crotch, thighs knees and most importantly, in a glorious reverse waterfall, splashes to cover that wretched physiognomy that sits on top of it all. Execution: 10. Style: 10. Form: 10. Overall: Perfect 10.
The look on her face was priceless and I will forever enjoy that moment. Unfortunately, she did have some drink left and that went on yours truly. I waited for her to jump on me, but as I wiped my shirt and begged in my mind for her to throw down, the staff of the Florabama came over, broke it up and ended up kicking that whole party out.
She threatened once more that she was outside waiting for me as I waved her away,”Yeah… Yeah… Whatever.” She was nowhere to be found as we journeyed back to the party bus. The rest of the night was full of fun and laughter over the whole thing and soon forgotten. But I will never forget how I almost got in a fight at the Florabama.
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