Sunday, August 8, 2010

Good Ol' Fashioned Thursday Night Tire Slashing

The day is Thursday, August 5th, 2010. A male friend calls, and demands I come out to one of the smaller local bars. I hem, I haw, I agree. I walk up the bar, (about 7 blocks away) around 4:30pm. The alcohol is coming at a steady flow, there is laughter, joking and dancing; yes, I said dancing! In walks someone, a male friend I have had ten months to move on from and swore I didn't care and I hated him, etc...Long story, short...I started slamming drinks, an obscene amount of liquor. At which time, I decide it would be a far better decision to relocate to another bar. However, as soon as it was noticed that I was absent, said "male friend" shows up to the other bar looking for me. Of course, bringing the "riff Raff". Lo and behold, a fight ensues and all hell breaks loose in the bar, bottles are flying, knives come out, and punches are flying, I am wrangling Goat and dodging punches and flying pool cues. The Bar-tender comes out with a bat and starts cracking the other party in the head, punching an older lady and chucking her across the dance floor...and after about 15 minutes of intense battle, the bar clears. Now, the building is metal and suddenly we hear banging, crashing,. popping and what I can tell you had a resemblance to an air-raid. It seems these out-of-towners from Houston, brought in by the Valero company went outside and slashed every fucking tire in the parking lot! Wouldn't be bad, but this is a relatively small town. Shit like that doesn't really happen here.

At any rate, this bar is is about 2 miles out-side of town, a long way to walk, drunk. The cops, S.O. and Rangers won't let anyone leave, they want statements from the 15 or so people still in the bar. Around 3:15 I decide I don't care and I want to go home, and my options are "walk". Now, it has just rained and we are way back on a dirt road and you have to walk down to go out to the highway.. It is muddy, slippery, and dark. I lost my shoes, misjudged the depth of a puddle, got a large chunk of broken beer bottle lodged in my foot and so many sticker thorns deep enough that it hurts me to walk three days later.

I get about quarter mile down the highway, a Sheriff stops and asks if everything is ok...I tell him I was just at the bar, tires are slashed and I am walking. I ask him for a ride, and he tells me he can't do that. Protect and serve my ass. He leaves. Another car stops, FINALLY, someone I happen to know. The bartenders husband! He picks us up, and goes right back to bar, so all of that , the brisk, drunken walk....yeah, for nothing! AND, I am right back where I started!. Out there for another thirty minutes answering questions. FINALLY, everyone is released, and we can go. Well, the guys car won't start, so myself, and two other guys are pushing this car to get it in position to get a jump, another puddle....yea, HA it looked ankle deep, pretty sure I was in this puddle up to my thigh, trying not to let this car roll back and run me over. Freezing cold, drunken success! So covered in mud, and freezing I finally made it home home at about 5:30am , with a headache and a major pain in my feet. I fell asleep on the living-room floor, woke up a few hours later and dug two pieces of glass about the size of a fifty cent piece and thought---Well, I wonder how far I really thought I was going to get.

Live Spherically people!

No comments:

Post a Comment