Tiki Bar Loneliness
Maybe I should have titled this lioness. Or not – that’s stupid.
Anyway, last night I went out with some friends – the usuals, J Money and Shishell and then J Money’s friend Amanda. We were meeting at this bar called Painkiller in the lower east side and because of unforeseen traffic I showed up on time and my friends 30 minutes later. I stood around awkwardly for a while before I decided to order a drink. There is something so ironic about being in a tiki bar by yourself – the loud rastafarian music blaring while you drink a foofy drink out of a face….alone. Finally my friends show up and the bouncer won’t let them in because apparently a big party was coming in later. Let me tell you, this place was fucking empty – there is no reason my friends shouldn’t have been let in. So, though I am only half way through my mai-tai-in-a-face drink, I pop my head outside to see what the problem was. The bouncer said he did me a favor letting me in even though there was a private party and he couldn’t let more in. Did me a favor? He, did me a FAVOR?? Yes, big fucking favor allowing me to sit in a tiki bar with loud rastafarian music while I drink a mai tai out of a fucking face…BY MYSELF. Thanks for the big fucking favor mr. bouncer. Why don’t you go gargle some more acid so you can intimidate people with your stupid gravely voice. I can tell you this now, I will never go back there because of him. Which is a bummer because the drinks come in a face. A face.