Blue Ridge this fall?
- Thread starter Deoodles
- Start date
Coastal Redneck
120cc
Ah, yes, the injury, I'd forgotten how ornery I was when I hurt my knee awhile back, so forgive me. I have a short story to tell but I'm not sure how funny it is... however, for some reason it has been on my mind tonight, and I never wrote about it before so I reckon this is my chance. In 1996, I traveled to Oklahoma City to attend an orientation for a trucking outfit. Upon my arrival, I was put up in a motel and told that I would have a roommate for the duration. No worries. Hours later, my roommate appeared and we immediately hit it off: we were both clean-cut ex-Army types, which beats livin' for four days with some friggin' slob, 10-4? I was in my early thirties and this hand was in his mid-twenties, but we thought alike in general terms and I was satisfied with the temporary living arrangement. Could've been worse, you understand.
The following morning we attended our first day of orientation, taking the p!ss test right away, which is standard procedure in any trucking outfit. The test was followed by a long day of administrative bull$h!t, as well as several lectures on company policies. Before knocking off for the day, the staff conducting the orientation warned us about a couple of nearby establishments which served alcohol... might as well have ordered us to visit these joints, since every last driver from orientation wound up at "The Shamrock Club" shortly after the staff went home for the evening. All of us were sharing pitchers of beer at separate tables and shooting the breeze, as truck drivers are wont to do. After a pitcher or two of beer, my motel roomie suggested that we reconnoiter the other establishment, and I readily agreed.
We walked over to the second gin joint, a somewhat dilapidated stripper venue known as "The Vegas Club"---despite its unprepossessing appearance, this club actually had some good-looking strippers working inside, no shortage of pretty gals in OKC back in the day. We made our way directly to some seats in the pit which circled the catwalk, ordered a fresh pitcher of beer and renewed our conversation while ogling the gals dancing on stage and parading up and down the walk, yeah? So far, so good, I had a decent buzz and I was enjoying myself, and I wound up talking and laughing with one of the strippers who had just finished her dance. She was sitting on my right and the younger hand was on my left, and we had a good vantage point on one side of the runway, near where the catwalk ended... a ledge circling the runway served as a platform for our beers.
Well, I was talking to that gal when I heard a bit of commotion to my left: a good-looking blonde had just taken the stage, and evidently this younger hand said something which was NOT to her liking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this dancer ease a shapely leg and ankle over the edge of the catwalk, position her stiletto-heeled foot midair with what looked like choreographed precision, and kick that younger hand's full beer directly into his lap. It was all done so smoothly that I could hardly believe the gal had even done it, yet I saw the beer get dumped right before my eyes as I turned farther in that direction. I should add here that even though the beer was cold, the mugs used by the establishment were those cheesy plastic kind, sufficiently thick to ensure insulation but not heavy enough to serve as a weapon in a barroom brawl... or perhaps I should say "strip joint brawl."
Now, that younger hand had every right to be angry, and he didn't take much time to consider the consequences of the acts he was about to commit. Fit as any athlete, he flung the chair back out from under him with an oath and reached down in one smooth fluid motion to scoop up the now-empty plastic beer mug... winding up like Catfish Hunter in the ninth, he hurled that mug directly at the stripper ten or twelve feet away. The practically-naked gal in stiletto heels hastily ducked and narrowly avoided getting clocked by the projectile, which sailed over her head and shoulder to thud into a screen behind the stage, eventually falling to the stage floor with a muted clatter, the mug being plastic and a thin layer of industrial carpeting covering the back of the stage. All of this happened within mere seconds, so fast that I was completely taken aback... one second I'm talking to a pretty gal on my right, the next second there's this hullabaloo going on to my left.
Enraged, and with his lower front completely soaked in beer, the young hand proceeded to storm out of the establishment, voicing more oaths and maledictions upon his way, but he had forgotten about the bouncers who invariably work these strip joints... he faded from my view in the shadows which lay between the runway pit and the front door, and I heard loud shouts or threats coming from other quarters. Peering into the darkness, I saw at least two bouncers converging upon the hand like raptors in a Spielberg flick... blows were exchanged, and perhaps the young hand gave as good as he got at the outset, but the odds were against him and he was ultimately restrained on the floor as the cops were called to haul him off to jail. Total elapsed time from beer spillage to end of brawl: something like 12-15 seconds, tops. Honestly, I'm no slouch at moving, but I was literally flabbergasted by the whole scene, it all happened so fast.
Granted, we entered the establishment together, and in most cases I would readily defend such a clean-cut young lad in a scrap, but he went too far when he hurled the beer mug at the damned stripper: moi, I would've simply walked out and never returned again, 10-4? But I couldn't help feeling sorry for the dude either, as things happened so fast and he was sufficiently lit to never even consider the consequences, aye? And one thing I had learned from similar incidents in the past: if there's an altercation of any sort in a bar or strip joint, it won't be the staff who get charged, 10-4??? The cops actually showed up in record time too, if I remember correctly this wasn't long after the OKC bombing with McVeigh, so the cops were all keyed up to respond in a flash. I grabbed the pitcher of beer and retired to a nearby dark corner while the cops cuffed the young hand and led him away...
There were customers sitting at tables higher up and farther away from the catwalk, and I imagine they got a little more entertainment than they expected on that night... the pit had lights facing upward toward the runway, so the action could clearly be seen by all lurking in the shadows, LOL. Nobody bothered me, as I had been off to the side when the theatrics occurred, and I told the gal to whom I had been speaking that I had just met the younger hand in orientation. WTF, she was sitting right next to me when all that drama occurred, and she saw for herself that I had nothing to do with it. Maybe she passed the word to other staff members, I don't know, all I know is that nobody bothered me in any way when I split, as soon as the cops had finished their business and disappeared. Obviously, I never went back to that fine establishment, one visit was enough, LOL.
The following morning, my roomie was still absent... sitting in jail, no doubt, awaiting arraignment. The company folks running the orientation asked if anyone knew where the guy was, but I didn't wanna relate the entire saga to the staff in front of the other drivers, so I waited for the first good opportunity and walked into the top dog's office to explain the situation, and to politely suggest that he might find the young hand locked up in the nearest hoosegow. Never did see the poor guy again, his duffel bag sat forlornly in one corner of the motel room till checkout time, and I always wondered if the Indian or Paki t***s who ran that dump stole the dude's rig. I'm fairly certain he was done in the eyes of the trucking company, all over an incident which lasted mere seconds. Funny how life can throw ya curveballs like that... I've dealt with a few myself over the years.
I'm not sure if there's a moral to this story, if there is it probably has something to do with alcohol consumption, and yet the young hand was NOT out of control, at least not until the stripper gal kicked the beer into his lap... probably to cool him down a bit, 10-4? She wasn't bad-looking either, guess I'll never know what the young hand said to arouse her anger in such a way... I'll leave that one to your imagination. In a lifetime of quick reflexes and split-second decisions, I've never been caught so off guard, talking to a pretty gal one moment and seeing that whole dramatic incident unfold the next, it all happening so fast that I was literally glued to my seat the whole time. I must say, the young hand had one heckuva pitch with that plastic beer mug, had he applied himself elsewhere he might have made the big leagues, 10-4???
The following morning we attended our first day of orientation, taking the p!ss test right away, which is standard procedure in any trucking outfit. The test was followed by a long day of administrative bull$h!t, as well as several lectures on company policies. Before knocking off for the day, the staff conducting the orientation warned us about a couple of nearby establishments which served alcohol... might as well have ordered us to visit these joints, since every last driver from orientation wound up at "The Shamrock Club" shortly after the staff went home for the evening. All of us were sharing pitchers of beer at separate tables and shooting the breeze, as truck drivers are wont to do. After a pitcher or two of beer, my motel roomie suggested that we reconnoiter the other establishment, and I readily agreed.
We walked over to the second gin joint, a somewhat dilapidated stripper venue known as "The Vegas Club"---despite its unprepossessing appearance, this club actually had some good-looking strippers working inside, no shortage of pretty gals in OKC back in the day. We made our way directly to some seats in the pit which circled the catwalk, ordered a fresh pitcher of beer and renewed our conversation while ogling the gals dancing on stage and parading up and down the walk, yeah? So far, so good, I had a decent buzz and I was enjoying myself, and I wound up talking and laughing with one of the strippers who had just finished her dance. She was sitting on my right and the younger hand was on my left, and we had a good vantage point on one side of the runway, near where the catwalk ended... a ledge circling the runway served as a platform for our beers.
Well, I was talking to that gal when I heard a bit of commotion to my left: a good-looking blonde had just taken the stage, and evidently this younger hand said something which was NOT to her liking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this dancer ease a shapely leg and ankle over the edge of the catwalk, position her stiletto-heeled foot midair with what looked like choreographed precision, and kick that younger hand's full beer directly into his lap. It was all done so smoothly that I could hardly believe the gal had even done it, yet I saw the beer get dumped right before my eyes as I turned farther in that direction. I should add here that even though the beer was cold, the mugs used by the establishment were those cheesy plastic kind, sufficiently thick to ensure insulation but not heavy enough to serve as a weapon in a barroom brawl... or perhaps I should say "strip joint brawl."
Now, that younger hand had every right to be angry, and he didn't take much time to consider the consequences of the acts he was about to commit. Fit as any athlete, he flung the chair back out from under him with an oath and reached down in one smooth fluid motion to scoop up the now-empty plastic beer mug... winding up like Catfish Hunter in the ninth, he hurled that mug directly at the stripper ten or twelve feet away. The practically-naked gal in stiletto heels hastily ducked and narrowly avoided getting clocked by the projectile, which sailed over her head and shoulder to thud into a screen behind the stage, eventually falling to the stage floor with a muted clatter, the mug being plastic and a thin layer of industrial carpeting covering the back of the stage. All of this happened within mere seconds, so fast that I was completely taken aback... one second I'm talking to a pretty gal on my right, the next second there's this hullabaloo going on to my left.
Enraged, and with his lower front completely soaked in beer, the young hand proceeded to storm out of the establishment, voicing more oaths and maledictions upon his way, but he had forgotten about the bouncers who invariably work these strip joints... he faded from my view in the shadows which lay between the runway pit and the front door, and I heard loud shouts or threats coming from other quarters. Peering into the darkness, I saw at least two bouncers converging upon the hand like raptors in a Spielberg flick... blows were exchanged, and perhaps the young hand gave as good as he got at the outset, but the odds were against him and he was ultimately restrained on the floor as the cops were called to haul him off to jail. Total elapsed time from beer spillage to end of brawl: something like 12-15 seconds, tops. Honestly, I'm no slouch at moving, but I was literally flabbergasted by the whole scene, it all happened so fast.
Granted, we entered the establishment together, and in most cases I would readily defend such a clean-cut young lad in a scrap, but he went too far when he hurled the beer mug at the damned stripper: moi, I would've simply walked out and never returned again, 10-4? But I couldn't help feeling sorry for the dude either, as things happened so fast and he was sufficiently lit to never even consider the consequences, aye? And one thing I had learned from similar incidents in the past: if there's an altercation of any sort in a bar or strip joint, it won't be the staff who get charged, 10-4??? The cops actually showed up in record time too, if I remember correctly this wasn't long after the OKC bombing with McVeigh, so the cops were all keyed up to respond in a flash. I grabbed the pitcher of beer and retired to a nearby dark corner while the cops cuffed the young hand and led him away...
There were customers sitting at tables higher up and farther away from the catwalk, and I imagine they got a little more entertainment than they expected on that night... the pit had lights facing upward toward the runway, so the action could clearly be seen by all lurking in the shadows, LOL. Nobody bothered me, as I had been off to the side when the theatrics occurred, and I told the gal to whom I had been speaking that I had just met the younger hand in orientation. WTF, she was sitting right next to me when all that drama occurred, and she saw for herself that I had nothing to do with it. Maybe she passed the word to other staff members, I don't know, all I know is that nobody bothered me in any way when I split, as soon as the cops had finished their business and disappeared. Obviously, I never went back to that fine establishment, one visit was enough, LOL.
The following morning, my roomie was still absent... sitting in jail, no doubt, awaiting arraignment. The company folks running the orientation asked if anyone knew where the guy was, but I didn't wanna relate the entire saga to the staff in front of the other drivers, so I waited for the first good opportunity and walked into the top dog's office to explain the situation, and to politely suggest that he might find the young hand locked up in the nearest hoosegow. Never did see the poor guy again, his duffel bag sat forlornly in one corner of the motel room till checkout time, and I always wondered if the Indian or Paki t***s who ran that dump stole the dude's rig. I'm fairly certain he was done in the eyes of the trucking company, all over an incident which lasted mere seconds. Funny how life can throw ya curveballs like that... I've dealt with a few myself over the years.
I'm not sure if there's a moral to this story, if there is it probably has something to do with alcohol consumption, and yet the young hand was NOT out of control, at least not until the stripper gal kicked the beer into his lap... probably to cool him down a bit, 10-4? She wasn't bad-looking either, guess I'll never know what the young hand said to arouse her anger in such a way... I'll leave that one to your imagination. In a lifetime of quick reflexes and split-second decisions, I've never been caught so off guard, talking to a pretty gal one moment and seeing that whole dramatic incident unfold the next, it all happening so fast that I was literally glued to my seat the whole time. I must say, the young hand had one heckuva pitch with that plastic beer mug, had he applied himself elsewhere he might have made the big leagues, 10-4???
