While Shmenn was busy coming out and we were dealing with all that drama, Shmavis had gone off to Basic Training for the Army. This made me feel more isolated than ever, he was my one real ally in my transition, my rock, my Dwayne Johnson if you will.
Nothing much happened in those first few Spring months, except that I turned 21, but I don’t remember that night so the blog post would just be a bunch of:
You get the picture.
Shmavis came back in April (or it could have been May, I don’t know, time isn’t real) for a brief break after his training and before getting shipped off for more training. So obvi we had to celebrate me finally being legal and him being back by going out to the strip of bars in our college town (locally known as The Circle, because they formed a circle around the town hall) and getting Shwasted. We got dolled up (who says that?), went out and were having a great time, until we weren’t.
*Theme music and opening credits play*
I’ve been in two bar fights in my lifetime, and both have been in the presence of Shmavis and Shmavery, which is ironic because these two honestly look like the cutest couple next door you’ve ever seen. This is like saying that every barfight you’ve ever been in involved that Barefoot Contessa lady and her husband (does she have a husband?).
I was off chatting with Shmavis, smoking a cigarette, Shmenn was DD for the night and had just gone off to the bathroom, and Shmavery was at the bar socializing with everyone that came within a ten foot radius of her. She was pretty drunk because the girl is about the weight of a dandelion and drinks like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (hey! Second “The Rock” reference…he was just named Sexiest Man of the Year, after all). Out of the corner of my eye I saw her reach up and take the sunglasses off the bartender’s face and put them on, and next thing I know this 12-foot-tall sasquatch of a frat daddy was vaulting over the bar and screaming in Shmavery’s surprised, blonde, little face. As me and Shmavis made our way toward the altercation Shmenn stepped between the bartender and our friend, as she had walked up just as this had started to go down. She raised her hands in a calming motion, the way you might do to a feisty moutain lion (or are you supposed to play dead with a mountain lion? Mental note to google that later in case I ever meet a mountain lion).
Out of nowhere I see this off duty bouncer with traps wider than I am tall jumping into the scene, chokeholding my girlfriend and dragging her from the bar. Shmenn is not a small girl, smaller than this guy yes, but not petite by any means, and he was dragging her like she was one of those dogs in those hilarious videos where they refuse to walk on their leash and they just get dragged along by their owner, except it wasn’t hilarious.
My fighting instincts kicked in and I resorted to the first defense mechanism I could think of — which was apparently to mimic a baby monkey and jump on this mean momma gorilla’s back. I don’t know what else I was supposed to do because this man’s biceps literally outweighed my entire body, and all I could think was maybe I could beat him in the head enough times that he stopped choking my girlfriend out. So I did exactly that, I pummeled him in the back of the head with my fists until he threw me down the stairs. (Before you get too worried, I was both drunk and a rugby player so I was loose and knew how to fall properly, I didn’t end up more than bruised. If you’re thinking, Chris, we weren’t worried, you picked a fight with a slab of meat, you had this coming… well, you can fuck right on off).
The good thing was, he was like an enraged bull and after hurling me down the stairs all he could see was a big ol’ red version of me, so he dropped my girlfriend on her head back at the last barstool and was bounding down the stairs at me screaming, “I don’t care if you’re a guy or a girl or whatever the fuck, I will beat your ass!” I made some jerking off motion (you know the one) and he kept hurling the “he-she” insults because we were apparently on an elementary school playground. I replied with some comment about how ill-endowed he must be to want to fight someone my size AFTER fighting with a woman. Maybe it wasn’t my best insult ever, or the most politically correct, but the steroids this guy must have been on had theoretically speaking shrunk his manhood (I mean, that’s just science) and he replenished his XP by beating up on drunk (and not at all drunk, in the case of Shmenn) people at a college bar, regardless of their size, gender, or innocence. Speaking of XP, imagine the Pokemon Machamp and that’s a spitting image of this man, four arms and all.
While I’m laughing and taunting this dude who’s name was probably Rod or Tank or Protein Shake, my friends who somehow caused the incident were walking out the front door unscathed. Shmenn was dizzy, had a large bump on her head, and I was honest to god running for my life. So maybe this wasn’t really a fight, per say, more like a hit and run. Either way, the laundry bag full of roiling testosterone fueled meat couldn’t catch me and we were across the street filing an incident report with the nearest cop on patrol.
Luckily we really weren’t that drunk so we are coherent, and double luckily the bouncer was off duty and had vocalized opinions that were easily considered hate speech so the officer was actually giving us the time of day. Our luck ran out, however, because the bar ended up tipping the guy out that night to cover their asses, and the most we could do was leave shitty reviews on YELP because bouncers can basically do whatever the fuck they want (which is appalling).
I wish I could say this was my last shitshow of a night out at those particular bars, but that would be the biggest lie I’ve told so far in this blog and I’ve told some pretty good ones so far. Just kidding this is all totally the truth. Except it’s not. Or maybe it is. You’ll never know.
*Next Week on Nobody Scissors… We celebrate my 21st in Vegas and I come out to my mom (again) on accident*