Whatever you say #3

I really love the Slingshot. Monday night and not a tv in sight. Along with a general vibe of awesome. And to my right is two men, one of whom is having vodka Red Bull and the other a shot of Jager and a Hamm’s tallboy .

slingshotThis is why I have done this. To have drinks I just wouldn’t. The man drinking the Jager is named Jake and tells me that the last time he had Jager warm, he was on his way to Cali, and they smoked weed and drank the whole way down. “Day went by real quick,” he says with chuckle. His friend is Bill and has a skull tattooed to his face. They’re into the punk rock coming over the speakers and while moderately friendly, have no reason to speak to me.

But I have to admit, good night to wear my NoMeansNo tee. Thanks little sister.

Holy crap, there’s brownies here for dessert! Man, I have to have one. I’m resisting because I’m not hungry and beer and brownies do not mix in the belly of the author.

Jake tells me that Jager should be followed with Sprite. I’m going to have to take his advice someday, as I like the Jager. In the meantime, he’s telling Bill that he punched a guitar player in the face because he told the player that the next time he saw him, that’s what he’d do. There seems to be a woman involved but I’m trying to listen while not listening. While I can’t approve of just punching someone, I do approve of following through on your word, so it’s a mixed bag, I guess.

I wish I’d been able to connect to the punks more in my hometown. I was probably too metal for them and too sensitive for the metalheads. I never really fit in and I suppose it shows no matter where I go.

As I get ready to leave, I introduce myself and they invite me to The Vern. I tell them I’ll meet them there and  when I show up, I have a Rogue Dead Guy and wait.

But they don’t show and I need to get home: I have a blog to post to and work tomorrow. Missed opportunities, I guess.

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