Saturday.

It is not uncommon that I go and take a trip to metasin, not at all. 

However, it is uncommon that I take a trip to metasin and stay sober so that I can actually witness and record said experience.  This night in particular was a doozy.  Trance, techno, horrible trip hop, and finally a live PA by the ever banging Brian Dunn.

Ok, so lets begin.

 

I arrive alone, having dropped off my wonderful Mia shortly before.  Of course, although I am driving the douchebag porsche, I am dressed as un-douchey as possible, with my cap low, and my hair splayed out, emo-style. Old t-shirt and jeans as usual.  I enter and I am greeted by the familar face of Juliya, the friday night bartender, and resident soviet.  She smiles, and places a wristband on me.  Right away I hear pounding techno, and I immediately regret the fact that I did not find a way to get there without having to drive.  Nevertheless, I resolve to take three quick drinks, and stay for three hours at least. 

I round the bar and see Jen, the blonde bartender, and she recognizes me from there, and from work, as we both happen to work for the same company.  She buys me a beer and I throw down a ten and ask for a shot of jager.  Ok, thats two right there.  I turn around and Vinny is there with his friend Justin, who seems convinced that I will one day burst forth from the shell of straightness that I occupy.  I tell him, even if I was in the closet, there would only be one human being who could do it for me anyway, and that human happens to have a pussy, and a delicious one at that, so, cock could never be an option.  He was gracious, but clearly disappointed, or at least it seemed that way. 

Minutes later I am on the dance floor, not as buzzed as I would like to be, but buzzed enough to bounce around like a liquid crack baby bunny.  I do this for an indeterminate amount of time before I realize my muscles are burning, and I am slightly out of breath.  I take a breather and watch the crowd gyrate for several moments, taking in the different characters.  There was raver girl, and ogre, and several generic hip hop clothing wearing, hat tilted, quasi-scene boys.  The ones that are better suited moving to a fifty cent tune than a PVD track, but still go to these events in hopes of grabbing a scantily dressed raver bunny tripping balls.  There were actually two raver girls in question, one being a tattoo covered, dred-headed, elfin creature.  The other, was the j-lo raver.  J-lo raver had a tilt-y hat boyfriend, who looked about as comfortable dancing with his chick as michael richards front row at the naacp.  I felt for the poor drunk bastard, and hoped that the reggaeton in his mind would help him get through the night.

Meanwhile, ogre piston pumped his gigantic mitts into the air rhymically, working up a tremendous sweat in the process.  At one point, he paused, and removed his wife-beater tank top, exposing his gargantuan frame, and scaring some of the smaller raver bunnies into corners as a result.

At this point I turned around laughing, and found myself staring at an old high school buddy of mine, Leif.  We exchanged greetings and made small talk, and soon I was staring at the crowd again, drinking a bottle of poland spring, courtesy of jen.  A girl stepped in front of me and began to fix her shirt, as it appeared her tremendous breasts were spilling right out of it.  She finished and moved to the side, it was then that Leifs friend introduced himself.  It appears that the girl was his girlfriend, and he was drunk, and apparently did not seem to like the fact that she adjusted herself in such close proximity.  Leif introduced me to him, and I knew two things right away, the girlfriend was clearly babysitting a drunk schmuck, and she was dying to leave.  So, after a brief conversation, he contented himself with publicly molesting his girlfriend for a while.

I took my leave and leaned against the bar, praying that the awful trip-hop set would soon come to an end, as I had been promised earlier that Brian Dunn would be on right after this pack of jibba jabba spewing assclowns.  I watched as guys danced quickly, and attempted to do things like breakdance on that filthy floor, and fly into the air and click their heels.  Frankly, it looked like crouching tiger, hidden moron.  Everyone can dance how they like, but once your dancing runs the risk of bodily injury to me, then it becomes a problem, hence why I avoid the pointless and idiotic mosh pits at concerts.

Vinny and Justin returned after leaving to go to a different bar earlier, and brought re-enforcements with them.  Justin, clearly drunker than before, proceeded to play penis bash with me.  The concept is very simple, one unsuspecting person leans against a bar, and the other, humorously proceeds to slam his crotch into the other persons crotch several times in rapid succession. 

I fled to the other side of the bar, and watched ogre unsuccessfully attempt to court jo-jo, the resident huge breasted bartender.  Bless his sasquatch soul, he brought his “A” game, but it clearly was not enough.  I watched as ogre went back to the dance floor dejected, half-heartedly pumping his grapefruit sized fists to the chinese water torture that was coming through the speakers.  Imagine, the loudest, fastest, most obnoxious noises, and a man who frantically babbles to its awful combination of bass that sounds like it belongs in a car audio show, not a dance floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dunn finally came on, and I danced in my little corner, resisting the urge to move into the middle of the dance floor and flying kick one of those acrobatic fools straight off the floor.

I look up for a brief moment and see that drunk boy, and babysitting girl are still there, and, they are next to me on the dance floor. Drunk boy appears to be gesturing towards me, and babysitter re-directs him to another, clearly gay man to the left of me.  He talks to the man, who shrugs, and babysitter rolls her eyes impatiently.  The man laughs and tells drunk boy that he would buy him a shot.  This appears to be enough to satisfy drunk boy, and he follows the man back to the bar, trailing the miserable babysitter.

I knew what she did, as drunk boy was clearly looking for any excuse to engage in violence.  But for some reason, I was slightly disappointed when they left, and I did not know why.  Maybe I was looking for an excuse too.

At this point, I have had enough.  Even the sweet sounds of Dunn cannot keep me there, and so I say my goodbyes, and walk out of metasin having spent almost nothing, danced for several hours, and left completely sober.

As I start the douche mobile, I recognize how rare this is.  But I like it. 

Tis better to watch morons, than to be one.

 

 -Tobas

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *