Your Lack of Foresight is Not My Problem

Posted: March 11, 2011 by VT in Daily Ramblings

Sometimes bars and clubs try to take the par-tay to the next level by bringing in something new and exciting for their customers. After all, patrons need more than booze to keep that wild-and-crazy feeling flowing through their veins, right? Right? I mean, it makes perfect sense.

Unfortunately, it’s been my experience that the owners never think through the “worst-case-scenario” when they come up with these ideas. Or maybe they just never imagined what my band of crazy-ass bitches could accomplish. Give us alcohol and 15 minutes, and we’ll not only achieve your worst-case-scenario, we’ll surpass it.

Let me give you a few examples.

Welcome to the Concrete

How ‘bout having people dress like celebrity musicians and have them lip synch to the crowd? Craaaaaazy! That idea is gold, baby! Pure gold!

At least that’s what the owners of a South Florida dance club must have been thinking. The problem is that they didn’t anticipate me and my girls being in the crowd.

So “Axl Rose” comes to the stage and starts “singing” Sweet Child O’ Mine. He was wearing a bandana and a kilt and did a pretty good impression of that patented side-to-side, slide-to-slide Axl dance step.

Surprisingly, the crowd of (mostly girls) was pretty into it. They gathered around the stage, dancing and singing.

One of my friends decided this was the perfect opportunity to start yelling, “Stage Dive! Stage Dive!” Immediately, the crowd joined in.

Now, I felt sorry for the kid. But not so sorry that I wasn’t chanting with the rest of them.

You could tell Axl wasn’t sure what to do. But with every girl in the place shrieking “Stage Dive,” he didn’t have much of a choice. The crowd was packed in tight, and he probably figured it would work out fine.

It didn’t.

He leapt off the stage and, no surprise, the crowd separated like Moses and the Red Sea. He fell – hard – onto the floor. It was as intense as one of those TV “Wipeout” wipeouts.

He lay there for a couple minutes – I think his pride was more broken than his back (at least I hope so) – before a couple of the bouncers helped him up.

I’m sure the owner needed a really good lawyer to fight the worker’s comp case.

The Flying Trapeze

The same club owners had another awesomely amazing idea. How about we put a trapeze over the bar? We can get hot, scantily-clad girls to swing back and forth. Craaaaaazy! That idea is gold, baby! Pure gold!

Again, my girls and I were in attendance one night. My friend G. saw the trapeze and made a beeline for it. Because she’s a beautiful girl (and was dressed like a slut), the bartenders were eager to let her get on and take a ride.

G. smiled and swung daintily back and forth like a nightingale in a cage. The bartenders watched for a few seconds and then went back to slinging drinks.

After a minute or so, G. got tired of just swinging there. So she started pumping her legs, going faster and faster. And then, because she’s a dramatic bitch, she decided to do a trick  — hang upside-down on the trapeze by her knees with her arms hanging free.

Unfortunately, by hanging upside down, she was now low enough to wack the bartenders and take them out. The bartenders – now acutely aware that they were in extreme danger – hastily tried to decide if they should grab her or get the hell out of the way.

They chose the latter. But in doing so, one of them slammed into the liquor and the bottles went flying.

The next time we went to da club, the trapeze was gone. I’m actually surprised they still let us in.

Can You Spare a Square?

You know what will really get the crowd going? Toilet paper cannons! We can have the bartenders shoot streams of t.p. across the club. Craaaaaazy! That idea is gold, baby! Pure gold!

The divebardiva was visiting and was in the mood to dance. We went to the club to shake what our mammas gave us.

The crowd was huge and the cannons were loaded. Toilet paper was shooting hundreds of feet across the dance floor.

After a while, I went off to dance on the bar. And divebardiva went to get a tequila shot.

When I got back, the dbd looked extremely agitated.

dbd: Where the hell have you been?

Me: Dancing, why?

dbd: Because something really scary happened!

Me: I was only gone 15 minutes. Stop with the dramatics, already.

dbd: I CAUGHT ON FUCKING FIRE!

Me: Really, you look okay to me. (I was super sympathetic)

That’s when the dbd turned around and I could see that the entire back of her shirt was gone! It had melted … or burned … or something.

Me: Oh My God! You really did catch on fire!

dbd: No shit! One of the bouncers had to put me out.

Apparently while I was gone, one of the cannon-shooters targeted dbd while she was dancing by the bar. She was shakin her groove thang while t.p. swirled all around her. Unfortunately, someone in the vicinity was smoking, and … well … you can figure out the rest.

(You would think that would have ended our adventures for that particular evening. But it didn’t. The rest of that magical night included a guy flashing us his junk in Denny’s and a trumpet-playing cabdriver. But that’s another post.)

The next time we visited that particular establishment, the toilet paper cannons were gone.

And Finally … I See Stars

You know what would be a really cool idea? If we built a pod-like capsule thing where customers could climb in and close the door. People outside the pod could spin it. And we’ll paint glow-in-the-dark moons and stars on the inside walls so it will look like they’re shooting through space! Craaaaaazy! That idea is gold, baby! Pure gold!

Now I know this is hard to envision. But please try. The payoff will be worth it.

This alternative bar (you know… the kind that plays a lot of Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson) had a lot of weird props in it. But the planet pod was the weirdest. It was a roundish sphere about 6’ tall and 2’ across. You would get in, and your friends would spin it. You would stand in the middle and watch the Milky Way fly around you. It was kind of a trippy thing to do when you got tired of dancing.

One of my besties had to try it. She climbed in, and we started spinning it as fast as we could. But, this being her first time in this particular dive, she misunderstood the concept. She thought SHE was supposed to spin with it. So she took her arms and legs and lodged herself against the walls so that she was actually spinning inside it.

The pod wasn’t built for that kind of action, and it broke off the base. The pod started rolling across the dance floor, much to the dismay of the pale-skinned, black-clothed patrons.

The best part was that as the pod skipped merrily across the bar, the door would slide open and shut, and you could see my friend inside with a look of pure glee on her face. She was having the time of her life. She had no idea anything was awry. She was just enjoying the ride.

Now I don’t know if the pod remained after that night. Because shortly thereafter this incident, the bar closed.

But I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with us.

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Comments
  1. Jon says:

    Ah, the good ol’ days! I remember the last one -Club Nemesis. And wasn’t that the same night G&B heaved drinks in each others’ faces and it was “suggested” that we leave?

  2. Homorita says:

    Holy Shit, VT, that was hysterical! I’m literally crying from laughter. I can’t wait to be a part of one of your and DBD’s stories soon.

  3. 5 dog fabulous says:

    This is the best post yet Oh My God so funny I had tears rolling down my face. I remember when Dive Bar Diva came home with the shirt that the entire back was burned off. Those were the good ole days!

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