The following events actually happened. Unless, you want to sue me for something I’ve published, in which case, it should be construed to be false. Some names, dates, locations and other details have been changed to protect the anonymity of all parties involved.
In the summer of 2010 I was on top of the world. As a recent college graduate, reality had not really seeped in. I had no job, no commitments, and so far, no symptoms of liver failure.
While basking in the post-convocation euphoria, I noticed that most of my friends were moving away and losing touch. Whether it was traveling abroad, securing internship positions, joining the job market, going to jail or getting fat chicks pregnant, it seemed that my friends were becoming distant.
I then had a brilliant idea: I was going to visit all of my friends, no matter how far away they lived, and drink till we are liverally exhausted.
First on the list: Conqueror Location: Miami, Florida
Conqueror had been in a fraternity during our undergrad years. Although I never became part of a frat, I always went to their parties and fucked their groupies, and in a way, became a quasi-member. Conqueror, who is a skinny hispanic guy, has a very charismatic face. He was a club promoter and would effortlessly get the attention of beautiful women whenever the opportunity arose.
“To bitches!” we simultaneously said as we took our fifth vodka shot of the night.
The first four shots consisted of similar toasts: to fat chicks, to ladies, to slores, to prostitutes. This was our tradition.
Thinking that we were going to a fancy club, I decide to wear a business suit. We go outside, signal for a taxi and surprisingly, it’s a middle-eastern man. After having a twenty minute conversation with Mohammed (I don’t know his name) regarding Arabic strip clubs, radical christian Koran-burning ceremonies, and 9/11, we convince him to take a shot of vodka from our flask as we exit the taxi. The clock strikes midnight.
As we approach our destination, I realize that this might, in fact, be a decent club. Except for the fact that every person in line is dressed like they’re trying out for Jersey Shore, and the line stretches across the corner of the block.
“We’re gonna be in line forever, fuck this!” says Conqueror as he pulls out his phone and starts calling the promoters of other clubs.
It’s not everyday that you are the best dressed person at a club, so I decide to take advantage of the situation. I walk straight to the front of the line. The following trick involves me announcing that I’m a guest of <Insert Generic Name Here> with the hopes that either a bottle party, promoter, manager, or some other character in the club has that same name and we can gain access to the club.
“I’m with Mike!”
I yell at the bald, biker-looking bouncer.
He looks at my suit and whispers something to his colleague, who appeared to be the head manager of the bald, biker-looking bouncers, no pun intended. ManagerBouncer approaches me and asks
“So, You’re with Mike”
Me: “Yeah, and my boy here too”
“Mike, who? Mike Springer?”
Me: “Yeah man! I’ve been waiting out here for like five minutes, come on!”
Next thing I know, he’s opening the door for us and introducing me to the other bouncers.
“This guy knows Mike, let him through!”
Apparently, this Mike guy is a big deal around here.
We take two Jolly Rancher shots and proceed to the back of the club. There, we meet two cute Hispanic girls.
“Dibs” says Conqueror, as he approaches and starts running his game on Chick#1. I talk to Chick#2 and find out that they’re both from New Jersey, they’re both sisters, and the girl I’m talking to is engaged. She lost me at “New Jersey.” We chit-chat and danced, she bought me a drink, I moved on to better things.
I turn around and start talking to a cute Asian girl. I love Asians. Partly because I was learning Japanese at the time, mainly because of Memoirs of a Geisha. I buy her a drink. She tells me she’s Chinese, in the most broken English I’ve ever heard. I don’t know Chinese, I only know some Japanese. I hate this club. To top it off, some short, fat, white dude wearing a Kangol hat comes up to me and asks why I’m talking to his girl.
Me: “How is she your girl?”
KangolDude: “I’m buyin’ her drinks, it’s disrespectful man, go get your own girl”
Me: “I don’t know how you do it in Miami, but normally, buying a girl a drink doesn’t make her yours. See? (pointing at her drink)I bought her a drink too. Why don’t we just share her? She might be a Geisha, have you seen that movie?”
KangolDude: “I don’t need you buying her drinks, I own this fucking place”
Me: “Man, get the fuck out of here, I OWN THIS PLACE, I know Mike”
KangolDude: “That’s funny asshole, get the fuck out of my face before I deck you”
I wasn’t in the proper state of mind to fight a short, fat guy, so I did what any reasonably inebriated human being would do. I snatched the drink I bought her and called her the only Japanese curse word that I know, “kuso kurae!”–which basically means “eat shit.”
KangolDude calls one of the bouncers over and tells him to kick me and my friend out of the club.
Bouncer: “Right away, Mike”
No fucking way. Apparently, this asshole is Mike.
I start speed walking to the exit and signal my friend to quickly get the digits
I chug my drink and we head to the streets. I don’t remember much after that, except rap battling some homeless people, my friend soliciting a girl who appeared to be a prostitute (but wasn’t), eating food from a street vendor, and finally taking a cab ride back to Conqueror’s place.
The next morning, I find that his door is locked and Chick#2 is passed-out on the couch with her left boob hanging out. He must have invited them over after the club. I realize that I really need to start pacing myself. Around noon, Conqueror comes out of his room with Chick#1, made breakfast for everyone, and we all talked about what a shitty hangover we had. The girls left to go sightseeing but we agreed to meet up again before they left Miami (it didn’t happen).
We talked about everything that happened the night before and went on a website called sunbiz.org (used to find information on business entities).We type the name of the club we had been to, and there it was, “Mike – Managing Partner”.