Friday, October 27, 2006

Things That Don't REALLY Happen

Okay, so it is a couple of days after the attack, so I feel like I am in a place where I can talk about it. This is my version of the events. I am sure Bailey, Yo and Veronica, Yo will also be posting their take on the WTF???! Situation we all on the party barge now seem to be calling "the incident."

Okay so here's what went down. Bailey, Yo, Veronica, Yo and I went to a very popular and higher-end happy hour location--we'll call it "The Weekly Broil." It's a place right outside of our office and it is frequented by our coworkers. We have had many a lunch meeting there. It may not be our FAVORITE happy hour place (the drinks are overpriced) but it is ideal if you only have time for a really quick, mini-happy hour. We are all stressed, we are all tired. Our feet hurt. It's still the middle of the week, and we all need some time to just chill out, relax, gossip, eat, drink and make merry. But you know, it is US, we are going to a PUBLIC PLACE, so we should have sensed the impending doom.

Well there we are, minding our own business. Not EVEN being loud, I swear! And talking about, well, nothing bad. We're all young, we're in a bar. We're just making jokes and gossiping a little bit. Nothing harmful, nothing weird. And really it was turning out to be a rather pleasant and uneventful situation. Until, the man in the sweat pant short cometh....

Now you are probably already a little frightened to hear that we encountered someone in a nicer establishment wearing sweatpants cut-offs, but it gets worse. Because it wasn't so much the strange, out-of-place clothes that turned us off, but the threatening, bellowing rant of lunacy he hurled at us in a very public place.

He was a large man. Probably in his mid-to-late fifties. He walked up to our little bar table. He was probably only about 3 feet away. He had icy, leering eyes that shot us a look so saturated with venom, it could make silent even the mirthless laughter of the damned. You know, unhappy people who like bad stuff and crap.

And he screams, SCREAMS! So loudly so EVERYONE in the restaurant, and all their relatives a couple of counties over turn and look at us:


We stared. Veronica, Yo said she thought he was joking at first. I was just horrified. It was one of those things you can't say much more than "I'm sorry, what now?" or ideally, "F&%$ You!" But instead I think all I could manage was "um...Okay Buddy..." Which was quite possibly the lamest response EVER, but the only one I could muster nonetheless.

Long story short, we fled. I mean, we had already paid our bill, but we definitely left faster than we had intended. There are probably scuff marks in the floors from our pointy-heeled shoes. Come by, I'll show them to you.

Bailey, Yo was very upset understandably. I guess being verbally accosted by the crazy in a public place doesn't happen THAT often to her. Huh. And she had to go home, but Veronica, Yo and I were not quite through with the situation. We went back to the Weekly Broil, and talked to two different managers. We wound up getting a $100 gift card and a "Sorry you were screamed at by an insane person in our establishment." So is the story over?????

Well, no, otherwise I would have written "THE END" but I don't want to take all description and further details away from my two friends who were also involved, so I will turn it over to Bailey, Yo and Veronica, Yo.


Brit, Yo.


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