Saturday, March 04, 2006

You Have to Believe in Something

There’s been a lot happening in my personal life so I haven’t managed to write about one recent surprise. I visited Burlington, Vermont two weeks ago and I spent the evening playing pool in a bar called the Three Needs with some friends. We were playing doubles and this annoying hippie dude came up to challenge us for a game. He wasn’t the crunchy gutter punk type—more a clean shiny Phish kid. My partner, a girl I know, and I went down early with this hippie having a little streak after my crappy break. After a few shots by both teams I realized the hippie didn’t have a partner and was trying to play two on one. That’s totally against the rules of course. We had just won the previous game; hence it’s our call to play doubles. I pointed out his mistake. He refused to take a partner and insisted he should be able to play alone. Thus a typical endless pool table dispute broke out with my lady partner in no mood to take this shit from the hippie asshole. I believe in doubles pool because it gets more people involved and reduces a certain annoying, ESPN, pool hall mindset that doesn’t belong at a bar (you have to believe in something). The hippie evidentially felt otherwise. After a long debate, I grabbed one of his friends, declared the friend the hippie’s new partner and made him play. The new partner sucked, I sunk the eight ball, and the hippie undoubtedly blamed my choice of his partner for their poor showing. So the hippie threw down his stick, and turned to this girl announcing that “we lost, but he [me] is a dick!” I got in his face and the hippie challenged me to “take it outside”.

He walked out to smoke a cigarette and ostensibly wait for my now called-out person. My friends had gotten word of what had happened and were crowding around to prevent fisticuffs. I kept quite until things returned to normal and snuck outside while no one was looking so my crew couldn’t prevent the whooping that need to come down.

I found the hippie right near the bar smoking and blabbing Phish kid dribble to some girl. I pushed him and the rumble ensued. A few body blows were thrown, a bit of wrestling, but all and all it was a very wimpy showing on both sides. Then the bouncer from the bar came out and broke it up. The hippie went off in another direction and I tried to go back in the bar assuming the bouncer wouldn’t let me after my mighty bout, but he did. Apparently the fight was so incredibly lame that it didn’t even register in the bouncers mind as a fight. Alternatively, after seeing my best attempt to mess someone up, the bouncer may have concluded that I was harmless and can safely be granted re-admittance.

Later that night I noticed the hippie had returned. I avoided eye contact with him due to embarrassment still surrounding the failure of our fight. I also avoided the bouncer after it occurred to me he may have mistaken the battle for a make out session.

1 comment:

Rob Hoehn said...

You did an amazing job of keeping me from noticing that whole thing...