When last we spoke of dating foibles, Shan and I had just been called "WHORES!" by the lovely Kyle (aka: Scrotum) and his lovely friend, Lyle at the lovely Longhorn private club (aka: bar) in a tiny little town in lovely east Texas. We were in no condition to drive and we needed to stay at the Longhorn, walking around and sobering up.
Our topic of conversation as we walked around was Kyle's use of the word whores.
"Do you think he knows what a whore is?" I mused. "I mean, accepting his offer to go to the fishing cabin would have been more whore-like behavior than declining."
"Well, of course!" Shan agreed. "But we're talking about a guy who introduced himself as 'Scrotum'."
We continued to walk around the bar, imagining what the fishing cabin looked like, where exactly it was located, and how many bodies were buried in the back.
Suddenly, the music cut out, the lights shut off, and the front doors were propped open.
"Everyone out!" the bouncers called out. "We're closed!"
Hmmm. No last call, no last dance, no 'happy trails', no nothing! Just "Get out, we're closed." Ok. I guess that's the way its done in private clubs.
As we were making out way to the door, Shan and I were approached by a semi-normal looking guy.
"Um, hi," he said. "My name is John. I know you don't know me and I don't want to scare you or anything, but I was just across the room and I heard those two talking." He gestured toward Kyle and Lyle. "I really didn't like what they were saying. Could I walk the two of you to your car? I'd feel much better if I did."
Why hadn't we met this normal guy earlier? Maybe he was circling the bar as well, just 180 degrees away from our trajectory. Anyway, letting John walk us to the car seemed like the smart thing to do.
Halfway across the parking lot, Kyle and Lyle started screaming: "Whores! Whores! I'll kick that jackass' ass!" (I especially like the repetition of the word ass. Effective, no?)
We quickened our pace. "Um, John, maybe you should just get to your car quick. They're kind of nuts. I don't want you to get hurt or anything."
"No," he said, "I'll make sure you make it to your car safely."
That's when a bottle sailed past his head. Those two lunatics were throwing beer bottles!
"Oh, shit!" Shan said. "When we get to the car, you're getting in, John. We'll go to a restaurant or something and I'll drive you back later to get your car."
Another bottle smashed about one foot from John's feet.
Fortunately, even small towns in east Texas have deus ex machinas. Two guys grabbed Kyle and Lyle from behind.
"Cut it out! You two do this every time we go out! Why are you always starting crap with strangers?"
Then Kyle, Lyle, and their two honorable friends started brawling in the parking lot. And people starting their pick-up trucks started honking their horns and howling out the windows. They were peeling by the melee, yelling, beeping, and throwing more beer bottles out the window. (what was it with flying beer bottles in this town? Did people have piles stashed in convenient places in case the urge to throw struck?)
John made sure we got to the car safely and made and exit. Shan and I scooted out the back way. Kyle, Lyle, their two friends, and various other people in the parking lot continued to fight.
That was the last time we went out. Oh, why couldn't I have gotten a work assignment in Austin?