Of Tequila and Tempers
I would like to start this story by stating two facts:
1: I over reacted.
2: I am still drunk as I write this.
I had a nice evening of biking that concluded with Shmoo inviting me via text message to join him, Fabian, and Paige at Skooners. I made my way over there, locked my bike, and ordered a Ziegen. All in all I only had two beers.
Not long before Fabian and Shmoo departed, after much talk of work at Orlando's, Paige was inspired to buy everyone tequila shots. I warned her, insisting on whiskey instead, but she bought me a tequila shot anyways. I did warn her. Tequila makes me aggressive, and tends to unlock my temper.
Eventually, Shmoo and Fabian left, and Paige and I fell immediately into catching up on the last six months of our lives. Out of nowhere a guy neither of us knew got up from a table from across the room and grabbed a chair at the table next to us and managed to invade our shared bubble of personal space. The tequila shot had just kicked in. He was obviously smashed by the slack jawed element and his slurred speech. He attempted to start a conversation by a, "How are you girls tonight?" My response was an admittedly aggressive, "I don't know you, go away." He showed incredulity at being shunned, and asked rather awkwardly, "Really?" Paige followed this by adding, "I don't know you either, please go away." When he failed to acknowledge that neither of us was interested in talking to him, I got a bit more aggressive, and starting yelling, "Go the fuck away!" repeatedly until he stood up and walked back to his original table.
This is the part where I over reacted. I heard him start to yell, loud enough for the entire bar to hear, about "those ugly bitches" telling him to go away. He did this for a couple of minutes, talking shit on my friend and myself. I should have either ignored him or gotten the bar tender at this point. Instead, the habits I developed from living in the ghetto of Austin East Side (and also certain experiences in Alaska) kicked in, I got up, walked over to him, spat in his face, and walked back to my table to sit down. I stopped drinking tequila in bars for a reason.
Paige proceeded to give me a well-deserved lecture on what is and is not appropriate for a Lubbock bar like Skooners. I should have let the bar tender deal with the creepy dick.
A little while later his friend started to apologize, offered repeatedly to buy us drinks. Then he tried to convince me to apologize to his crazy friend, explaining that he was being, "An aggressive hispanic male," that "his honor was hurt" and that he did not want his friend to end up in jail for getting violent with me. I refused to apologize, stating that I am fucking Irish and will cow down to no one, offering instead to call the cops if he didn't leave.
Shortly after this the guy came up from behind and poured half a fucking beer on me. I got the bar tender. The bar tender told me that because I spat on him, if the piece of shit threatening to physically attack me had to leave, I also had to leave. I was on a bike. Again, his friend came over apologizing and begging us to let him buy Paige and me a drink.
I disappeared in the bathroom for a bit. I was calling my brother.
When I came back, the guy had left and my brother was on the way to drive me home. I would now like to state that my brother is a saint, as he left his girlfriend's side while she is in the hospital waiting on gall stone surgery.
As I started to sober up and realize the import of the situation, I was started to get worried about what I had gotten myself into, maybe even a little scared. I don't think anyone noticed that I was shaking a little at the prospect of being attacked by some guy who had been hitting on me.
His buddy came back over at last call, and Paige and I finally let him buy us both a drink. We got his name, a sob story, and I ordered a whiskey and coke. It was amusing, the way he kept reiterating how hot we both were. He also made a point of mentioning repeatedly that his drunken friend had been gunning for me, that he had been going about, "She's got a fire in her, I can see it, oh, that redhead's got fire in her." I am amused by the irony of the situation, but this is also the point where it occurred to me that if I had biked home earlier I just might have been raped.
My brother finally showed up and drove me home. On the way he found it necessary to point out the obvious, that the friend of the douche bag was hoping to bank on his friend's stupidity and take one of us home. He was not the least annoyed that I had got myself into the situation, simply a bit frustrated that I had done so when he was hard to reach, due to the unfortunate situation with his girlfriend. "It was the Irish in you, just make sure I'm around next time you do something like that."
I love my brother, have I mentioned that recently?
But in all seriousness, I over reacted. I should have ignored that jerk until he went away, but living and biking regularly through the scary parts of Austin late at night left me a bit tightly wound. It was a good call to get a ride home, but I still shouldn't have put myself in that situation in the first place. Once again, I just don't seem to react appropriately now that I'm back in Lubbock. It was stupid, and I shouldn't feel good about it, but situations like that tend to mentally put me back on that corner of 12th and Chicon in Austin, where I had to try and beat the bus stopping or deal with toothless crack heads hitting on me every other night, just before a mean steep hill I just could not bike up very fast.
So, note to self; have assholes kicked out rather than trying to take care of shit myself. This is going to take some serious discipline, my current attitude towards douche bags saved me from getting raped or at least mugged a couple of times.
I just got back from three weeks of peace and love at a music festival, right?
1: I over reacted.
2: I am still drunk as I write this.
I had a nice evening of biking that concluded with Shmoo inviting me via text message to join him, Fabian, and Paige at Skooners. I made my way over there, locked my bike, and ordered a Ziegen. All in all I only had two beers.
Not long before Fabian and Shmoo departed, after much talk of work at Orlando's, Paige was inspired to buy everyone tequila shots. I warned her, insisting on whiskey instead, but she bought me a tequila shot anyways. I did warn her. Tequila makes me aggressive, and tends to unlock my temper.
Eventually, Shmoo and Fabian left, and Paige and I fell immediately into catching up on the last six months of our lives. Out of nowhere a guy neither of us knew got up from a table from across the room and grabbed a chair at the table next to us and managed to invade our shared bubble of personal space. The tequila shot had just kicked in. He was obviously smashed by the slack jawed element and his slurred speech. He attempted to start a conversation by a, "How are you girls tonight?" My response was an admittedly aggressive, "I don't know you, go away." He showed incredulity at being shunned, and asked rather awkwardly, "Really?" Paige followed this by adding, "I don't know you either, please go away." When he failed to acknowledge that neither of us was interested in talking to him, I got a bit more aggressive, and starting yelling, "Go the fuck away!" repeatedly until he stood up and walked back to his original table.
This is the part where I over reacted. I heard him start to yell, loud enough for the entire bar to hear, about "those ugly bitches" telling him to go away. He did this for a couple of minutes, talking shit on my friend and myself. I should have either ignored him or gotten the bar tender at this point. Instead, the habits I developed from living in the ghetto of Austin East Side (and also certain experiences in Alaska) kicked in, I got up, walked over to him, spat in his face, and walked back to my table to sit down. I stopped drinking tequila in bars for a reason.
Paige proceeded to give me a well-deserved lecture on what is and is not appropriate for a Lubbock bar like Skooners. I should have let the bar tender deal with the creepy dick.
A little while later his friend started to apologize, offered repeatedly to buy us drinks. Then he tried to convince me to apologize to his crazy friend, explaining that he was being, "An aggressive hispanic male," that "his honor was hurt" and that he did not want his friend to end up in jail for getting violent with me. I refused to apologize, stating that I am fucking Irish and will cow down to no one, offering instead to call the cops if he didn't leave.
Shortly after this the guy came up from behind and poured half a fucking beer on me. I got the bar tender. The bar tender told me that because I spat on him, if the piece of shit threatening to physically attack me had to leave, I also had to leave. I was on a bike. Again, his friend came over apologizing and begging us to let him buy Paige and me a drink.
I disappeared in the bathroom for a bit. I was calling my brother.
When I came back, the guy had left and my brother was on the way to drive me home. I would now like to state that my brother is a saint, as he left his girlfriend's side while she is in the hospital waiting on gall stone surgery.
As I started to sober up and realize the import of the situation, I was started to get worried about what I had gotten myself into, maybe even a little scared. I don't think anyone noticed that I was shaking a little at the prospect of being attacked by some guy who had been hitting on me.
His buddy came back over at last call, and Paige and I finally let him buy us both a drink. We got his name, a sob story, and I ordered a whiskey and coke. It was amusing, the way he kept reiterating how hot we both were. He also made a point of mentioning repeatedly that his drunken friend had been gunning for me, that he had been going about, "She's got a fire in her, I can see it, oh, that redhead's got fire in her." I am amused by the irony of the situation, but this is also the point where it occurred to me that if I had biked home earlier I just might have been raped.
My brother finally showed up and drove me home. On the way he found it necessary to point out the obvious, that the friend of the douche bag was hoping to bank on his friend's stupidity and take one of us home. He was not the least annoyed that I had got myself into the situation, simply a bit frustrated that I had done so when he was hard to reach, due to the unfortunate situation with his girlfriend. "It was the Irish in you, just make sure I'm around next time you do something like that."
I love my brother, have I mentioned that recently?
But in all seriousness, I over reacted. I should have ignored that jerk until he went away, but living and biking regularly through the scary parts of Austin late at night left me a bit tightly wound. It was a good call to get a ride home, but I still shouldn't have put myself in that situation in the first place. Once again, I just don't seem to react appropriately now that I'm back in Lubbock. It was stupid, and I shouldn't feel good about it, but situations like that tend to mentally put me back on that corner of 12th and Chicon in Austin, where I had to try and beat the bus stopping or deal with toothless crack heads hitting on me every other night, just before a mean steep hill I just could not bike up very fast.
So, note to self; have assholes kicked out rather than trying to take care of shit myself. This is going to take some serious discipline, my current attitude towards douche bags saved me from getting raped or at least mugged a couple of times.
I just got back from three weeks of peace and love at a music festival, right?