Thursday, February 12, 2004
That one's for freedom, motherfucker
The other night I went out with some colleagues to a swank two-story bar called the Spanish Moon. There we threw back some drinks and listened to a band described by my friend (who knows the lead singer) as "you know, lesbian folk rock shit." When the singer shouted to the crowd, "Is anyone here gay or bi?" and a roar went up, I felt like I was back home.
Sufficiently buzzed I decided it was time to defend The Advocate's honor on the pool table (I am an excellent pool player between four and seven drinks into the night and notably worse before and after). When I arrived I knew my mission was of utmost importance, as my opponent was some douche bag in a CCCP shirt. Oh, a hammer and sickle, how very counterculture of you.
So we got down to business, images of Red Dawn and Rambo III in my head as I mentally wrapped myself in the red, white and blue, sinking every shot in remembrance of 9/11. Toby Keith provided the soundtrack and then, suddenly, it was 1980, the Lake Placid crowd was going crazy. It was down to the wire in a back and forth game, "USA! USA! USA!" And then the dude scratched on the 8-ball. But I feel it was my intense patriotism that unnerved him and caused him to falter at the crucial moment. America had dodged another bullet.
Sufficiently buzzed I decided it was time to defend The Advocate's honor on the pool table (I am an excellent pool player between four and seven drinks into the night and notably worse before and after). When I arrived I knew my mission was of utmost importance, as my opponent was some douche bag in a CCCP shirt. Oh, a hammer and sickle, how very counterculture of you.
So we got down to business, images of Red Dawn and Rambo III in my head as I mentally wrapped myself in the red, white and blue, sinking every shot in remembrance of 9/11. Toby Keith provided the soundtrack and then, suddenly, it was 1980, the Lake Placid crowd was going crazy. It was down to the wire in a back and forth game, "USA! USA! USA!" And then the dude scratched on the 8-ball. But I feel it was my intense patriotism that unnerved him and caused him to falter at the crucial moment. America had dodged another bullet.
