There have only been two times in my life that I’ve gotten really fucked up physically. One time was in South America and the other time was outside of Pittsburgh. This is a story of what happens when we try to have a party in the US – shit just goes entirely off the rails for no fucking reason. Charlie and I were in a small town for professional reasons and figured we might as well party it up a bit while we were there. I had a hot little Spanish girlfriend in town visiting me for a while also. She’s quite a story in her own right but one for another time.
In any event I told my hot little bowl of paella that I was going to need a boys night out with Charlie so we hit the town, not in Pittsburg proper but in one of those shit suburban college towns 45 minutes outside of town. We had a few drinks and were checking out the lame bars, stupid stuck up mediocre American college chicks, and retarded redneck locals. One incident with the locals that sticks in my memory from that night was when Charlie and I tried to talk to a couple half decent looking local college chicks and they were super rude. It went a little like this:
Manuel: “Hi girls, how’s it going?”
Girls (eye roll): “Fine”
Manuel: “What are your names?”
Girls: “Don’t talk to us. Just go over there and bother someone else.”
Charlie (loudly, already drunk, to the guy standing next to the girls): “Hey dude, what’s up?”
Dude: “Hey man, I’m Brad, what’s your name?”
Charlie: “Charlie, nice to meet you, this is Manuel.”
Brad: “Nice to meet you dude.”
Manuel: “So anyway, dude, where are all the nice hot chicks in this town? We’re having a hard time finding non-bitchy, non-ugly chicks here.”
Girls (Bitchy, stepping in between us and the dude) “Hey, what did you say, you assholes?”
Manuel: “Excuse me girls, were we talking to you?”
Girls: “You guys are stupid ugly assholes! (To dude) Don’t talk to these guys, Brad!”
Charlie (drunk): “Hey girls, you really aren’t pretty enough to be such bitches! Inner ugliness combined with outer ugliness is a bad combination.”
Brad: “Uh, I think I better go.”
Girls: “Fuck you assholes!”
Anyway, things pretty much proceeded like this until the all-to-early 2 AM last call. We were in one of those bars where they have pictures of all the famous people that have visited and I was pointing some pictures out to Charlie as last call came. Some half retarded shaved monkey steroid permeated asshat bouncer put a rough hand on my shoulder and rudely demanded we leave. My response? “Relax dude we’ll be out in a minute.” Next thing I know I’m in an choke hold from behind by an unseen assailant, being carried by the neck down a long flight of steps. I never even saw it coming. I blacked out and went totally unconscious half way down the stairs. Next thing I remember was waking in a pool of my own blood, my lip split into two distinct pieces and seeing that an ambulance had already arrived. The police were totally unhelpful – these fucking pigs let these asshole bouncers dish me up several plates of aggravated assault and they did absolutely nothing about it. God damn motherfuckers, there was even a security tape of the whole incident showing that I didn’t do anything. This was a criminal matter and these stupid police did nothing.
I got put in a choke hold also and carried down the stairs by my neck but somehow managed to remain semiconscious throughout the incident. It was rough treatment as evidenced by the fact that I had marks around my neck from the steel chain necklace I was wearing that night. Maybe it was because I was super drunk that night that I was more relaxed and more easily able to weather the assault by those redneck assholes. There were cops downstairs who watched this happen, and in my drunken indignation I demanded to give a statement, which the cops refused to allow me to do, saying I was too drunk. They had me blow a tube to prove it to me and it came out .176. Ok, so I was wasted. But assault on a drunk guy is also assault. I really wish we had been in Bulgaria when that happened so we could have had some of our friends settle the score a bit for us.
Anyway after an ambulance ride and a bunch of stitches on my lip I returned home bruised and battered to my mamacitita who helped nurse me back to health. Charlie and I have never been the type to let anything get in our way and even though my face looked like a Frankenstein experiment gone wrong we hit it pretty hard the very next night – which just happened to be Halloween! We drove into downtown Pittsburgh and went to work. I had an absolutely great scam going that allowed me to still be social while looking like Freddy Krueger. We told them that it was all just makeup and Charlie worked as a professional makeup guy in Hollywood and had flown out just for Halloween. This worked beautifully until an Indian doctor chick decided to test my “costume” by poking one of my worst wounds with her finger. I screamed like a banshee and had to fess up as when the pain subsided. D’oh!
After that episode (it was now the infamous 2 AM last call again) we moved on to the after hours club. Wanting some entertainment I encouraged Charlie to get “Tucker Max drunk” and started buying him shots and doubles. In the mean time I sat up in the VIP section. Shortly after arrival, some questionable looking douchebag started hassling me about my “fucked up face”, I shot back with some snarky retort which shut him up and actually turned him around to our team. Not long after we were drinking from his bottle of Vodka and being offered coke by him and his associates. That was pretty much how the night carried on. I drank vodka with gangsters and Charlie proceeded to get “Tucker Max’d” at the bar downstairs.
Damn, I was really drunk that night! I felt pretty bad because Manuel was so messed up and I had gotten off so relatively Scott free, so when he said he wanted me to get hammered for him and was buying the drinks I had no choice but to comply. I completely blacked out and the next thing I remember was being in the car with Manuel and his Spanish girl in the front and I and some random girl I didn’t recognize in the back. My memory fails then again until I woke up in the basement of Manuel’s aunt’s house (we were staying with her in that shit town outside of Pittsburgh) in bed with the unknown girl (who was a pretty hot young thing with fake boobs who had been wearing really slutty sweater mini dress). She told me in the morning that she had been at the club with her ex-boyfriend who was trying to get her back. I guess he was no match for Super Drunk Charlie. Manuel’s aunt was super pissed off when this chick of dubious character showed up for a fairly embarrassing breakfast that morning. Come to think of it, Manuel’s Spanish girl was no fan either. People just gotta be haters.