I had a somewhat strange experience at the bar last night. People are fucking weird. I was standing alone watching snowboarding on the TV and like anyone else I’m thinking to myself, “It all looks so fucking easy.”
Snowboarding is a bullshit sport. They’re strapped in. You can’t call yourself a bad ass when your feet are connected to your board. That’s like showing up at the skate park with boots connected to your skateboard. You don’t think everyone would laugh at you? Imagine a dude dropping in at Pipeline with his feet connected to his surfboard. You can’t help but scream, “WHO IS THAT ASSHOLE?!”
It’s like a slap in the face to the sport. It’s like kicking me in the crotch. I hate these extreme sport Mountain Dew mother fuckers who are constantly trying to reinvent the action. Sidewinder Snakeboards, motorized surfboards, these fuckin’ guys on their snowmobiles doing back flips and shit – just stop already. You look ridiculous. Be a normal fucking person and go buy yourself a motorcycle. Ride a fucking skateboard. Pull your balls out of your pants because people are starting to wonder if you have any. How do women have sex with these dudes? I don’t get it. Their boyfriends come home after a long day of snakeboarding, Mountain Dew berry blast in their hands and she’s got the nerve to suck this dude’s dick?
Unbelievable.
Or maybe it’s the women who are inventing this shit? I could see a woman at a company board meeting for Target and asking her team of executives how they can repackage the skateboard.
“Why don’t we make it bend in the middle and you have to gyrate your hips back and forth like John Travolta in Grease to get it to move?”
Excellent, I love it!
Next they throw some flames on the deck and call it the “Flaming Rattlesnake” or some shit. You laugh, but your girlfriend sees a dude on one of these things and thinks to herself, “I’m totally gonna suck that guy’s cock!”
It’s the dance moves. That’s how Danny fucked Sandy. She thinks he listens to nobody’s rules and I guess in a sense he doesn’t because he isn’t listening to the rules of man.
Rule No. 1 – no fucking snakeboards!
Rule number two of course being any kind of board sport where the person is strapped in is kind of gay.
Snowboarding is one of these sports teetering on the edge. Sometimes it looks kind of rad when they’re carving through powder, but anytime I see a picture of a dude pulling a grab he just looks like a fag to me. All he did was pull his feet up.
Fag.
Anyhoo, so I’m standing at the bar watching TV and get that odd feeling a person experiences when a stranger is too close to them. I turn around and this Mexican dude is standing right up on me. I smiled slightly and nodded my head in a “what’s up?” kind of fashion expecting him to communicate.
But he didn’t.
He just stood there. I turned back around thinking he was going to maneuver to the side of me and order a beer. Clearly I wasn’t ordering, I was camped. This was obvious by the full bottle of beer and empty shot glass in front of me. This creepy dude was just standing there behind me no more than a foot away. It was gross. Every second felt like a lifetime and I started to panic while imagining this person punching me in the back of the head.
Shit, did I fuck this guy’s girlfriend or something?
Clearly I was overreacting, but gripped my green Heineken bottle tightly “just in case.” If this dude got cute I’d whip around and smash this beer bottle over his head in one quick fast motion. Then I’d make eye contact with the bartender like,
“What? I had to defend myself.”
This of course being if he didn’t have the same plan of smashing his beer bottle over my head. Ugh, I hate these situations. Do I attack first or wait for him to make his move? What if he knocks me out and I’m laid on the floor snoring like an asshole and drooling all over myself? Then I wouldn’t be able to go into that bar anymore because I’d be too embarrassed. Then what the fuck am I supposed to do every night? I was really starting to panic while picturing myself sitting at the bar at T.G.I. Fridays. The guy next to me is talking about the band Nickelback and asking if I want to go snakeboarding down by the seawall.
Fuck that. No.
I glance back around and this Mexican dude is just standing there facing me all straight faced and emotionless. Was he actually there to murder me? Did he even speak English? Now I’m picturing this Salvadoran gang member who’s there to prove his bones by killing the first person he sees. These people are fucking crazy; I’ve watched documentaries about it.
So all this shit is racing through my mind and I’m cursing myself for not making a move before this MS-13 gang member blows my fucking brains out all over the bar, and it happens. Sometimes a person’s body will just react out of instinct. My imagination was busying playing my funeral, my mother is crying, that fuckin’ Guns & Roses song November Rain is playing. It’s an open casket funeral and the rain is pouring down on my face. Why wouldn’t they shut the casket? And why wasn’t my mother throwing herself over my body while crying hysterically? Everything was wrong. It was like nobody cared I was dead because I died like a bitch. I just stood there and let this person shoot me from behind. I’m not Abraham Lincoln, I’m Jesse Andrew! And fuck this asshole! I turned back around again so at least I’d be shot in the face like a man (Rule No. 485.) And when he did nothing – I squeezed by for the bathroom. Neither of us spoke a word. Once a few feet away I looked back to see if he was following me, but he’d only stepped up to the bar to order. This entire time he was just waiting to order a beer. The bar was crowded and this dude must have thought I was waiting to be helped. He was just standing in line. He was entirely too fucking close to me, but he didn’t mean any harm.
I didn’t fuck his girlfriend.
He wasn’t an MS-13 gang member.
He was just a dude wanting a beer and I’m picturing my own death. I wonder what was going through his mind? He was probably thinking about whatever chick he wants to text message and I’ve got Guns & Roses playing while picturing my own lifeless face in a rain covered coffin. Remember when the red bleeds from the roses? This is what goes through my head when other people get too close to me.
And look, I know at least one person reading is going to bring up tow-in surfing and how they’re strapped into their boards. That’s different, they’re risking their lives to ride crazy waves. Is the dude in a snakeboard strapping up in preparation to sidewind down the world’s steepest sidewalk? Even so - he’s still a fag.
