If It Feels Good Do It

I’m one person out of 6.7 billion. You want to know me anyways.

With that in mind, consider the following facts:

• Fact 1 - I did not consider the following story particularly noteworthy.
• Fact 2 - When I mentioned the following story to a friend of mine, he asked me “Why haven’t I already read that story on your blog?”

Last weekend featured two days of wedding activities in Sonoma, California.

Whether you like it or not, you know that I went to Las Vegas for a bachelor party. Well, last Saturday was the wedding.

Friday night was the wedding rehearsal. After that we got drunk and after that we had dinner. After that we went to a bar.

At the bar I was getting even more drunk with a girl who was sweet, cute, and technically related to me. In other words I was having a great time.

She got up to go to the bathroom. I put my foot on her stool so no one else would take it.

A few minutes later this guy walked by and kicked her stool out from under my feet. He kicked it about three feet and almost knocked it over. Then he walked off in the direction of the bathrooms.

I have a tendency to get into fights after I get drunk. I wasn’t always like that. Rather than explore the real cause I will simply blame going to too many Raiders games.

Finally, after the girl I had been talking to got back to her seat, I saw the guy return. I was so drunk that I barely remembered what he looked like. I could tell by the way he was walking though, that it was him. He walked to some corner of the bar, and I followed.

He was slightly bigger than me.

“Hey!” I said. “Was that you who kicked my stool?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Well, I said excuse me like five times and you just sat there.”

“Uh, well, yeah… First of all, I’m just chilling at a bar, and second of all I DIDN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU. It’s loud in here.”

He was dressed like a normal bar patron in a t-shirt. I had on wedding rehearsal clothes that featured my trademark beige sport coat. I got in the guys face.

“Listen,” I said “If you kick my fucking stool again, I will BEAT YOUR FUCKING ASS.”

That’s verbatim what I said except I used a few more expletives.

The guy took a step back. “Uh, okay. Fair enough.”

I should have just left it at that. But I was irritated at what a wimp the guy was. I was hoping he would at least try to punch me in the face.

I asked him again why he kicked my stool.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked to my right. Two huge guys were standing there looking right at me with an angry look on their face. “Is there a problem here?” one of them said.

I realized they were bouncers. “Oh, no” I said, “we’re just having a nice little civilized conversation.”

“There better not be a problem.”

“Oh, no” I said. “No problem here.”

Then I turned back to the guy. “So anyways, as I was saying, I will beat your fucking ass!”

It’s hard to even describe the sensation I experienced next. For the first and only time in my life, I felt like I was flying. I was pretty far inside of the bar, and somehow the bouncers got me outside in less than two seconds.

I know that when we got to the threshold of the exit, one of the bouncers literally threw me. I’m not sure if he picked me up and threw me, or he had been carrying me the whole time.

But I landed on my feet. Or well, my cowboy boots.

Friends and family were still in the bar. Bummer. But oh well, they would find me eventually.

I sat down on a bench and shared some conversation with the citizens of Sonoma.

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