Ok, about last Saturday night...
Alright my friends, here's the story. Wait, let me get something to drink, cause this is gonna be a long one. But hang in there with me cause its funny as hell.
Ok, so once upon a time, there was a dude named Al that had recently moved to Chicago to find a job. One of his "contacts" there was a man named Lance, who was a privately practicing architect there in Chicago. Lance was Al's brother's wife's cousin. Anyway, one day Lance called Al to go out on the town. Al accepted. Lance told Al to meet him at a bar called "Grand Central Station" at about 7:45. "Should I give you directions?", Lance asked. "No, that's cool, I'll get directions off the internet", Al replied. So that's exactly what he did, and he found out what bus to take as well. Al got on the bus, not knowing what to expect of the evening. He began to grow nervous, as the bus was taking him to a part of Chicago he'd never seen before. The names of the restaurants and stores were all in Spanish. Al checked the scrap of paper in his pocket for the name of the right stop. "Major", it read. More time past and he realized that 45 minutes had gone by riding the bus. Finally, the bus reached Major and Al got off. He walked through the deserted street to a glowing sign that read "Grand Central Station Bar". A sign on the door read, "Please walk around to backdoor and ring bell". After ringing the bell, Al was greeted by a short-haired, middle-aged woman with a cigarette in her mouth and a mop in her hands. "Uh.. Is this the Grand Central Station Bar?", Al asked. "I'm supposed to meet someone here." The bartender nodded and motioned him in, advising him to watch his step, as the floor was wet. The bar was small, dim and other than the bartender and an affectionate middle-aged couple, it was empty. The only sound was coming from a television which played a dramatic Lifetime movie. Puzzled and growing nervous, Al sat down on a barstool and got out his wallet to buy a beer. He realized he had forgotten to stop at an ATM and thus had no cash. Raising his eyes, he instantly noticed the "cash only" sign behind the bar. After 15 awkward minutes of bad small talk with the bartender, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Lance. "Where are you?", Lance shouted over loud music. "Are you here, I can't find you," he went on. Al went into full blown panic mode. "Fuck, dude... I fucked up," Al uttered over the phone. "I'm at the wrong fucking Grand Central Station!" Lance responded with "Are you fucking serious?" There was an uncomfortable pause before Lance said anything else. "Well, fuck. Call a cab. I'll pay for it," he finally said. Al got off the phone, told the bartender what had happened, she bought him a beer and called a cab. After hanging up the phone, she turned to Al and said, "Ok, It's gonna be about an hour." Extremely frustrated and angry at his misfortune, Al sat and attempted to make one budweiser last an hour. “So, you’re going to that goddamned yuppie bar that stole our name, huh?”, the bartender inquired. Al watched the Lifetime feature, in which a close friend is secretly observing the private life of a family through hidden cameras planted throughout the house. An hour passed and at long last the cab arrived. The cab driver laughed at the events of Al's evening. They stopped at Walgreen's so Al could use the ATM and buy cigarettes. The cab driver bought two bottles of alcohol. A twenty-dollar cab fare later, they pulled up to "Grand Central", which turned out to be just a couple blocks from Al's apartment. (shit, this is taking much too long… lets speed it up..) Al goes to the bar, it’s a shoulder-to-shoulder “meat market” and he can’t find lance for half an hour, he ends up having to text message him to meet him by the bathroom, and lance laughs at al’s story ad buys him beers. They later go to a ridiculous dance club called “Cherry Red”, where Al downs a stiff drink and decides to say “fuck it” and hit the dance floor 500 percent. Within minutes, a supportive circle forms around Al, and several hot black girls start grinding up and down on his shit. After a song and a half, Al loses his breath (after all, he is giving it 500 percent) and b-lines it for the bathroom. On his way, a seven-foot black dude cuts him off saying “hey, not so fast.” Al, thinking that the dude might be a “companion” of one of the girls, sees his life flash before his eyes. “You’re the shit!!!”, the guy says, to Al’s surprise and relief. “I ain’t never seen anybody fucking dance like that before!”, he went on. “Where the fuck you goin’?”, he asked. “Oh, dude, I’ll be right back”, Al responded. But Al was lying. He went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and then went to go tell Lance goodnight. “See you later, I’m gonna go fuckin’ puke”, Al said to Lance. “Hey man, do what you gotta do”, Lance said to Al.
The End
Ok, so once upon a time, there was a dude named Al that had recently moved to Chicago to find a job. One of his "contacts" there was a man named Lance, who was a privately practicing architect there in Chicago. Lance was Al's brother's wife's cousin. Anyway, one day Lance called Al to go out on the town. Al accepted. Lance told Al to meet him at a bar called "Grand Central Station" at about 7:45. "Should I give you directions?", Lance asked. "No, that's cool, I'll get directions off the internet", Al replied. So that's exactly what he did, and he found out what bus to take as well. Al got on the bus, not knowing what to expect of the evening. He began to grow nervous, as the bus was taking him to a part of Chicago he'd never seen before. The names of the restaurants and stores were all in Spanish. Al checked the scrap of paper in his pocket for the name of the right stop. "Major", it read. More time past and he realized that 45 minutes had gone by riding the bus. Finally, the bus reached Major and Al got off. He walked through the deserted street to a glowing sign that read "Grand Central Station Bar". A sign on the door read, "Please walk around to backdoor and ring bell". After ringing the bell, Al was greeted by a short-haired, middle-aged woman with a cigarette in her mouth and a mop in her hands. "Uh.. Is this the Grand Central Station Bar?", Al asked. "I'm supposed to meet someone here." The bartender nodded and motioned him in, advising him to watch his step, as the floor was wet. The bar was small, dim and other than the bartender and an affectionate middle-aged couple, it was empty. The only sound was coming from a television which played a dramatic Lifetime movie. Puzzled and growing nervous, Al sat down on a barstool and got out his wallet to buy a beer. He realized he had forgotten to stop at an ATM and thus had no cash. Raising his eyes, he instantly noticed the "cash only" sign behind the bar. After 15 awkward minutes of bad small talk with the bartender, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Lance. "Where are you?", Lance shouted over loud music. "Are you here, I can't find you," he went on. Al went into full blown panic mode. "Fuck, dude... I fucked up," Al uttered over the phone. "I'm at the wrong fucking Grand Central Station!" Lance responded with "Are you fucking serious?" There was an uncomfortable pause before Lance said anything else. "Well, fuck. Call a cab. I'll pay for it," he finally said. Al got off the phone, told the bartender what had happened, she bought him a beer and called a cab. After hanging up the phone, she turned to Al and said, "Ok, It's gonna be about an hour." Extremely frustrated and angry at his misfortune, Al sat and attempted to make one budweiser last an hour. “So, you’re going to that goddamned yuppie bar that stole our name, huh?”, the bartender inquired. Al watched the Lifetime feature, in which a close friend is secretly observing the private life of a family through hidden cameras planted throughout the house. An hour passed and at long last the cab arrived. The cab driver laughed at the events of Al's evening. They stopped at Walgreen's so Al could use the ATM and buy cigarettes. The cab driver bought two bottles of alcohol. A twenty-dollar cab fare later, they pulled up to "Grand Central", which turned out to be just a couple blocks from Al's apartment. (shit, this is taking much too long… lets speed it up..) Al goes to the bar, it’s a shoulder-to-shoulder “meat market” and he can’t find lance for half an hour, he ends up having to text message him to meet him by the bathroom, and lance laughs at al’s story ad buys him beers. They later go to a ridiculous dance club called “Cherry Red”, where Al downs a stiff drink and decides to say “fuck it” and hit the dance floor 500 percent. Within minutes, a supportive circle forms around Al, and several hot black girls start grinding up and down on his shit. After a song and a half, Al loses his breath (after all, he is giving it 500 percent) and b-lines it for the bathroom. On his way, a seven-foot black dude cuts him off saying “hey, not so fast.” Al, thinking that the dude might be a “companion” of one of the girls, sees his life flash before his eyes. “You’re the shit!!!”, the guy says, to Al’s surprise and relief. “I ain’t never seen anybody fucking dance like that before!”, he went on. “Where the fuck you goin’?”, he asked. “Oh, dude, I’ll be right back”, Al responded. But Al was lying. He went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and then went to go tell Lance goodnight. “See you later, I’m gonna go fuckin’ puke”, Al said to Lance. “Hey man, do what you gotta do”, Lance said to Al.
The End
posted by Alejandro Francesco at 1:40 AM
2 Comments:
Great Story, except you should've kept dancing until the break of dawn! I didn't comment because I just thought every night was like that in the Big City! I can't think of ever seeing you dance...except at that one party we had that was sort-of gay, where we were ballroom dancing even though there were no girls, and you were doing some sort of jig with a giant stereo speaker on your head which Frank saw from across the street...after we woke him up at 4 in the morning.
damn....good times.
man, hot moves, hot wiring, and hot wings. gosh, you're damn fine. damn fine!
d: is that like holden caulfield speak?
a: uh...i dunno. dunno. i just liked al's story, man. i was left somewhat speechless. weakly. and white. wish i could have been there for that. would have been grinding it like those black chicks.
d: and i would have been telling him he's awesome like that big black guy.
umm...we need more details over here. we seriously want to picture it. what were you wearing? what kind of music was it? what were your moves? where was the cab driver from? why were you haning out with him in walgreens? who does that? really?
okay. again. thanks for that awesome story. hope you have another entertaining weekend for us. and don't forget to send us your ball entry.
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