Why is that when you think you're going to have a nice chill, yet entertaining evening with a few friends, it unexpectedly turns into a freak show?
The Ting Tings played a free show in the Power & Light District last night and the kinship I developed with the one song of theirs that plays on the radio via drunkenly screaming along to it at the Dark Horse a few weekends ago - "Shut up and let me go, HEY!" - made it mandatory that I attend, so I set something up with Kate and Ashley.
After a few beers and apps at Flying Saucer, we perched on the balcony and watched lead singer Katie White flail and screech around the stage in her plaid dress and little red boots from a bird's eye view. Not surprisingly, all their songs have that weird electronic sound. It was entertaining, but short. I guess that's what you get for free.
Since I declared that I wanted a "girly bitch drink" during the concert, we headed to the area's newest bar, Shark Bar, and got a Mai Tai. Immediately I spot a couple of guys I used to run around with in junior high who Ashley also knows and we spent a couple of hours on the deck hanging out and catching up.
Just as Kate and I said goodbye to Ashley who went to another bar with one of the guys and his girlfriend, started heading downstairs to jump into Sam's waiting car and be the responsible adults we pretend to be from time to time, I run into my sister's friend Jenna and one of her friends in line. The convincing was minimal to get me to stay...and the freak show began.
Back inside Shark Bar, we order Coronas from a snotty, obnoxious shirtless bartender with goggles on his head and Jenna later figures out she ditched him on date from Match.com. God, those Match boys are crawling all over the place. In the next couple of hours, a dumpy, khaki wearing old man that Jenna was strangely attracted to pushed me out of the way repeatedly by my face, a trio of fat men from Ohio trap me in a conversation while I'm looking for Jenna, a guy who is clearly on cocaine rolls around and sweats while talking on his cell phone on the bench next to me on the deck, a blue sweater man flings me around the dance floor while his friend chases a disgusted Jenna around trying to hump her incessantly, humper later flops down on the bench next to me and drunkenly jabbers at my face prompting me to ask him repeatedly if he's on crack and Jenna gets pissed because I reveal to a guy she was talking to that she used to babysit me. All is well when I say that I'm 21 and she's 26.
Then it gets even better. We stroll over to Rock Bar as if we haven't had enough to drink already on a Thursday night and Jenna's friend runs into somebody she knows right outside the door who also happens to be one of the mimosa guzzling Vinino bartenders from the Around the World Beer Tour. We've acknowledged each other several times since our drunken first meeting, but have never really had a conversation until we get into Rock Bar where he gropes me while I stand at the bar and disguises it as a massage, reveals that he wants to rip off my clothes and literally swallows my head like a goddamn boa constrictor eating a defenseless baby mouse. I wiggle away before too much harm is done and while I'm not keen on being molested by a 37-year-old smoker bartender, like, ever I'm not mad at the guy nor am I interested. Something about him makes me think he's not really serious and does this type of thing on a regular basis to a variety of people. He might actually be fun to hang out with...from a distance...or with his hands tied behind his back.
As we walked out to the sidewalk to head to the car, at 3 a.m. I might add, we ran straight into a team of about 20 Canadian linemen (the kind that climb electric poles for a living) wearing matching shirts and wielding a video camera. We're given an unexpected mass escort to the corner of 13th and Walnut, ironically right in front of the Flying Saucer where this seemingly normal night began, where one of the guy's spontaneous decision to pick me up is caught on tape along with Jenna's loud advice to me to quit talking to the "cute one" in such a manner. "You might confuse him. He's very pretty," she said.
As we said goodbye, pretty lineman follows in mimosa drinking bartender's footsteps and tries to eat my face without warning. What the hell is going on? When did it become socially acceptable to launch a unprovoked tonsil attack on a perfect stranger in the middle of the street on a Thursday night in Kansas City? I mean, Vegas or Mardi Gras? OK. Frat party? Sure. Kansas City on a Saturday night? I can see it, but don't people have jobs to get to on Friday morning? Or possess any sort of manners at all?
And, by the way, what the hell am I doing in a drunken stupor in the streets of KC on a Thursday night...excuse me...in the wee hours of a Friday morning? Like Dad always says, "the only people out at that hour are cops and mouth breathers"...um and face rapists apparently. I should probably listen to Dad...at least when I have to work the next day.