It's Friday night. Vicky B and I decide to grab a drink, and by we I mean me. Just one. "We" decided it would be classy to drink at the local Red Lobster as I have never experienced the awesomeness of the bar-area. We go. No room at the inn. There's no other bar around worth going to... but there IS the Regal Beagle. That's what we call the local "pub" attached to a restaurant from the 70's. It's pretty bad like the faux name suggests ala the reference to the bar in Three's Company. Let's just say it has a wall made out out fools gold. You get the picture.It was just bad enough that Vicky B had to be coaxed into going and good enough for me to grab a quick brew (so not a beer girl, but Hefeweizen w/ lots of lemon appeals to my Latin side). We enter the fine establishment and decide to sit in the corner because it's one of those wood-paneled places where every creepy perv looks you up and down because they're drunk enough to believe they actually have a chance of a hook up. So we keep a low profile, Vicky B playing bejeweled on my iPod as she is not drinking, and they serve me up a tall one, a huge one (that's what she said).
Can I just say on a side note, that the Regal Beagle has THE best drinking music one could ask for? Granted, it was chosen on a jukebox by other drunkards, but damn, those drinky mcgees have excellent taste. Here's just a sampling off the Regal Beagle Greatest Hits, Vol. 1 that I just made up the name for:
1. Wasted Days & Wasted Nights - Freddy Fender
2. Lying Eyes - The Eagles
3. Another Eagles song that sounds similar to that.
4. The Joker -Steve Miller Band
5. Volver - Vicente Fernandez
6. Always on My Mind - Willie Nelson
I felt like I needed to drown my sorrows and I didn't even know what kind of sorrows I had!
Back to the story. So there we were chilling. Lord knows we tried to be incognito, but we can't help that we're two cute chicks. All of sudden, a slurring drunken old man comes up to our high table. He keeps telling us how beautiful we both were and how we were the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. Alright, I can get behind the compliment, I'm shallow, but it really was making the both of us quite uncomfortable.
He asked us if we liked to fish... if you know us, you know the answer to that. Then, he kept slurring some mess about we are what we are, we is what we is, referring to Popeye. I kept saying "what he say?" cuz I couldn't hear him over the awesome music and I don't think I wanted to. Then he commanded us to both give him our hand. Us being stupid and scared, we went along with it hesitantly. Hey, you never know if a drunk is gonna get crazy. Let's just say like his hands looked like this:
EWWW!!!!! I can't believe we let him touch us. Had a firm grip on our hands too. But I was so confused and I didn't want him to attack us.
I distinctly heard him call me a "witch" and I was like "oookkaaayyy" and he said "oh oh, it's not a bad thing." So then you know what he did? He brought both Vicky B's and my hand together and it all made sense. He thought my BFF and I were a couple and that I was the DUDE who bewitched her into being with me. All the evidence was stacked up against me. I had my hair in a pony tail, an argyle cardigan, and I was the one drinking a beer. Hey, she could do worse.
So yeah, thanks drunk fisherman guy, I'm sure Vicky B and I will live happily ever after like we were doing already without your intervention. We're pretty hot lesbians apparently.
Thank God for Vicky B's cleanliness because she had wipes on-hand after the incident. We couldn't rub hard enough (that's what she said... again). Can't I just go to a local pub with my friend without being called a les? Drunk fisherman are haters! Well, I had fun.
