The Blind Man Society

**The below is a slight dramatization, and there is no picture to go with today’s entry as the perfect one was 175 dollars for the license.

I arrived at the shop today carrying a precious blog post idea and kicked open the door with a blast.  Running to the coffee bar and stiff-arming two people in the process, I dramatically wiped everything off the counter, unrolled a metaphorical map and proceeded to explain – today’s four-point blog post PLAN…to amazed and aghast staff and patrons.

THE PLAN:

Coordinated Attack.

Cutting to the bars of downtown.  Our crew arrived on the scene, and immediately started looking for members of the opposite sex that night.  It didn’t take long and I found one I really liked.  She was Russian and had to have been a model, and her boyfriend was an absolute football player sized monster. I was not an absolute football player sized monster.   My friend, let’s call her Alice, was just gorgeous, an aerobics instructor and well-endowed in her chest.  So after talking and plotting quickly, we decided to do a little coordinated attack.

I went up and introduced myself to the woman while the boyfriend was up at the bar, and while he was ordering a drink Alice walked up and said hello to him.  She put on her best ditzy bubble-head act and shoved her chest out, and began charming him.  While he was distracted, the woman I was interested in looked over and got MIGHTY angry that he was talking with her, and hanging on her every word and movement.  So, I seized the moment and talked her up.  Minutes, smiles and laughter went by.  I was close.  So close.  In fact, I could feel her number in my hands.  But shortly, the spell was broken and her boyfriend, following a look from her that could take paint off a cinder block, finally detached himself and headed our direction.  I asked her to have a great night and joined Alice at the bar once more. 

A brief commentary:

The effort was a failure, but everybody felt they learned a valuable lesson.  Because as we concluded later, she got a compliment, he got reamed out, I walked away empty handed, and Alice scored a free drink. 

Ruminations.

I’m thinking back on those days and laughing at the sheer absurdity of much of it.  People getting so drunk that they sat outside on the sidewalk giving their money away to random strangers, dropping keys down storm drains by accident, prying them up and jumping down INTO the rainwater filled holes beneath the street to get them back, and my personal favorite – the Statue of Liberty shot.  Dipping your finger into a shot glass of Rumple Minze and lighting it on fire…if done late enough at night, the finger was occasionally never blown out.  The list goes on…  The bar scene really is like a graduate degree when it comes to knowing and navigating people.

Fake IDs.

I remember ID pictures that looked nothing like the people using them and the cardholders cosplaying identical outfits and facial expressions as said pictures, being asked every question regarding the information on the fake ID, what their sign was to verify it was them, people preparing backstories, and liquor stores and bars that had “walls of shame” with all the confiscated fake IDs on a board propped in the front window for all to see.  DARING people to try to use them.  The pursuit of getting drunk was a never-ending Clash of the Titans – underage drinkers and bouncers, liquor store staff, and others.

Pickup Lines.

To clarify for subscribers, I have never been tired from running through the opposite sex’s mind all day long.  It did not hurt when I fell from heaven.   And, while some have likened me to a genie while drunk, you may rest assured that I am not here, but leaving now.  What are your other two wishes? 

You are welcome to leave your wishes in the comments box below…