Sunday, November 19, 2006

Liquid Courage Doesn't Cure Stupidity

Last night was one of my fraternity brother’s last hurrah as a bachelor. I don’t want to call it a bachelor party because all he wanted to do was hang out in the bars on the North Side of Chicago. It was a low-key bachelor outing until we made it to the third bar.

The Backstory.

During my senior year of undergrad, four years ago, I was the President of the Inter-Fraternity Council. This nice resume entry was not much more than making sure that no one really got into trouble. At one point during my tenure a fraternity had to be kicked off campus for a series of stupid acts. The Greek community at my undergrad institution is extremely, extremely small and there isn’t Greek housing. They got kicked off and that was that. As I look back on it, it really is stupid shit, but that is college.

Fast forward to last night…

We were at the first bar of the evening, when I saw two members of the aforementioned fraternity working at this bar. I didn’t think much of it until as our group of 15 was leaving when I was surreptitiously elbowed in the back as I walked to the door by Douche #1. I say this because the bar was empty at 8pm when we were there. Again…didn’t think much of it.

5 hours later we were at the third bar of the evening.

I had stopped drinking at bar #2 and by this time I had sobered up decently. It was a little after 1 when I am just standing behind the booth where the man of honor of enjoying his 18th cocktail and his second pack of cigarettes. It’s at this point when my shoulder is grabbed and I am spun around. It’s one of the fraternity members, we’ll call him Douche #2, and there are three more within shouting distance of him, including Douche #1. This could be fun.

This guy, obviously has had a cocktail or three, is attempting to talk to me. By attempting, I mean that could care less with small talk, but he is slowly working up to something. I don’t need my time wasted, so I turn back to the group of guys that I am with. Enter the guy who elbowed me at bar, Douche #1. He gets up in my face. Nose to nose. Trying to push me into the wall. And he is chanting like a coked up auctioneer: ‘Let’s go man…let’s go…we owe you one…you ruined my life…let’s go…’

Trying to reason with this drunk was going nowhere and it was at this time that I believed that I was about to get punched. I figure that if it is coming I had best be sure that I am not going to take it in any place that would cause serious damage or cause me to be unable to defend myself against any second blow. Out of my peripheral vision I see that about 8 of the guys that I am with have taken up positions around this guy and have also positioned themselves to spring on this guy’s backers. Draaaaaaaaaaama.

It was about this time when a bouncer intervened on my behalf and promptly escorted Douche #1, Douche #2, and his two other boys onto the street. Before Douche #2 was corralled out, he decided to share a few last words to me: “You should come with us, we owe you an ass-whooping.”

This was a nice bonding event on a bachelor’s last stand. Not a bad thing to happen before a wedding.

My thoughts the day after:

  • According to Douche #1, I ruined his life…I wonder what jail time would have done for the outlook of his ruined life
  • Who uses the term “ass-whooping”?
  • What sort of geniuses follow a group of 15 guys from one bar to another, looking to pick a fight when you are outnumbered 4-1?
  • Ron White said it best, 'stupid is forever'
  • I've got great friends who sprung to my defense without hesitating