Today’s Music: The Fratellis – Look Out Sunshine
So consider this a holiday laugh gift, and I hope you enjoy it!
*Disclaimer – The story below is as true as I remember it. But I was pretty drunk at the time.
It’s snowing like hell outside, a fresh layer of several inches on top of the inches already on the ground, for this particularly cold, white winter.
It’s me and Pat, the owner/bartender. We’re drinking pints and shots, trading stories, telling lies about the women (this was before TMWGITU).
By about 0030, we’re the only ones there, not even any stragglers wandering in, and the snow just keeps on falling.
“Want to walk down to Tracey and Don’s place?” asks Pat.
I think to myself. The snow is falling hard, but the wind is minimal. It’s a half a mile, about a ten or fifteen minute walk. I still have most of a pack of cigarettes.
“Sure, why not.” I answer, and down the road we head.
“Guapo? Guapo…hey! You did those naked bar dances here! It’s great to meet you, man! I’ve heard those stories!”
Another of the patrons is a brunette girl, about 5’11”, college age. Not hammered, but she is definitely not on her first drink.
So Pat and I sit back, start talking with Tracey and Don, who, it turns out, have never heard the first naked bar dance story (I know, right?).
So, with the lure and softening of multiple free shots of Jaegermeister, I launch into a very animated retelling.
It’s a great story, and the group is laughing (with me) as I finish.
Tracey pours another round and says “I’ve never seen anything like that”.
“Sorry” I answer. “I’m not near drunk enough to do it again.”
“That’s alright” says Don, passing me another full shot. He looks at the girl. “Have you ever done anything like that?”
She starts laughing at him. “Oh my god, are you kidding?” She turns to me. “How drunk were you when you did that?”
“Too drunk to remember how drunk I was.” (Can you imagine I was ever single!)
“You could do naked snow angels!” yells Don. I look up at him. The girl laughs some more, as does everyone else.
We keep talking, drinks are flowing freely, and as happens, someone needs to go to the bathroom – the girl.
While she’s up, Pat comes over to me.
“You realize we have no interest in seeing you naked, right?” he asks.
“Thanks Pat. I’m both offended and relieved”, my usual answer when guys say things like that to me.
“But we want to see her do one, and if you do, she might too” he finishes.
Tracey brings up the snow angel again.
The girl is still reluctant, but not as much.
This goes on a little longer until I say
“I’ll do it if you will.”
She looks at me with a calculating expression. “Will you go first?”
“Sure. But once I do, you can’t back out. You know, embarrassment shared and all that.”
She thinks for a moment.
Run across snow to a hot tub? Fun.
Laying down in the altogether and flailing in frozen water? How on earth is that considered a good idea?
But not my socks.
No idea why. Did I mention I was drunk?
And out the door I go.
And IT’S. EFFIN’. COLD.
And there is naked in places naked is not meant to be.
And I learned that night, that if there is ever a speed snow angel competition, I’m a shoe in for the gold.
She goes into the bathroom, strips down, then streaks down the bar, shoots out the door, does her angel and dives back in.
The whole place is cheering and applauding, and we’re all (including her) laughing our heads off.
I go into that bar a month later. Winter has lightened a bit, and that first hint of spring is in the air. But the bar is holding onto winter.
In the form of my socks.
Which are nailed to the wall with a commemorative “First Annual Naked Snowman” marker.