So I’m just going to preface this by saying I experienced legit ice on my windshield last week. My Californian-ass was not prepared in the slightest. Defrosters actually defrost, who knew?
Anyway, it’s Halloween and I have some harrowing tales to tell. And by harrowing I mean “wow this is some bullshit.” As expected, the Green Ranger rides again in to the sunset of attention and affection, both of which I like to avoid. But to tap into that nostalgia well for people really does make the impracticality of this suit worth it. What doesn’t make it worth it is standing out in the freezing rain at some club that I went to against my better judgment. Yes, this is a Tale from the Krypt.
Before I get into this shitshow let’s sprinkle some backstory into this cauldron of catastrophe. I was regularly seeing/hanging out with this particular woman for a few months and we were getting along pretty well. Then life happened, I got fired from my interim job and then fell into an amazing one. So up until last week, homegirl and I hadn’t spoken in about three weeks. Granted, I did hit her up a couple times in that span, to no avail. Wasn’t a huge deal, shit happens. I figured it was a wrap.
So in random bout of conscience I decided to see how she was doing. She replied, we chatted a bit and agreed to catch up that week. Not bad for 3 weeks of silence. The details that followed that hangout aren’t important, but suffice to say the actions that took place were a green light for us to resume where we left off, or so I thought (GASP). She told me about this Halloween club-party thing, but didn’t directly invite me so I was having a slight flashback to that Nas benefit concert fiasco of last year.
Fast-forward to the night of the club-party, I confirm that she’s going because if not, I was going to stick with the one thing that could never hurt me unless it was spoiled: food. I get a nondescript answer of “whenever I get out of work.” Alright then. An hour and some change passes, nothing. Now I understand getting caught up, but the least that could be done is giving an update of some kind without being badgered by me. At this point I didn’t want to go and figured it was a bust despite having spent the effort suiting up. I send a final text, hoping for no reply secretly, and she confirms they’re on the way. God damnit.
It’s raining, freezing, and I’m slightly fatigued from 8 hours of work, but I push through. I arrive about 30 minutes later and round the corner to a small line outside of the club. Peculiar, the even has been going on for nearly three hours now. I come to find out they were at “capacity” despite letting in a handful of people anyway because why not. I’m already thinking about bailing, but I wait it out for 10 minutes. 20 minutes in, when my suit is soaked, my fingers are completely numb, and my patience is gone, I text homegirl saying I’m gonna go home. No sooner then I send that text, the bouncer takes upon himself to be a upstanding citizen of Planet Earth. He lets in about 10 people, me included, that were at the front of the line. I glanced behind me and noticed there were at least 60 people freezing to death. They dun goofed.
Finally in and warming up my frosted fingers, I get borderline assaulted by some drunk people raving about the Green Ranger. Granted, my costume was lit, I can’t deny that. The next 20 minutes of photo-ops and Snapshat bombing could have been shortened, but I digress. I text homegirl to see where she is in relation to all the drunk folk. She says she’s at the front of the stage, in a sea of about 300 people, half of whom were probably toasted beyond all reason. Great. I stare at the crowd of gyrating bodies and “sexy <insert profession>” to see how much I really cared about seeing this girl because the last thing I wanted to do was fight my way through a legion of people to lose my hearing. After 10 minutes of figuring out a route to the front, I execute.
I made pretty good headway, up until the halfway point where large people with small costumes were blocking everything. I give up and accept my fate sandwiched between some guy with a sweat stained plumber costume and a very large woman who should get new friends as no one should have let her leave the house like that. Let’s just say she thought she had the frame of the skinny model on the costume package. So I put my helmet back on and dance with other random people around me, take some more photos, and get a shoutout from the DJ. Pretty cool overall really. Alas, I have yet to engage homegirl and I dip out of the madness to see if she would mind breaking off from the group for a bit. Crickets. A perfect addition to the fact that I lost my debit card in the midst of all this. At this point I’m just about done and ready to rip my suit off. But I had to wait out the crowd to see if I could find my card.
The club clears out and I send a final text to see where ol girl went. A message slides across my screen. Apparently, she left 20 minutes prior due to a sick friend who was now vomiting everywhere. Whether or not that’s true isn’t as important as the fact that she didn’t bother to attempt to say “Hi” at the very least. But I got my answer I suppose. I left it at that and conducted my search in the sea of discard plastic cups, candy wrappers, rival club flyers, and assorted costume pieces. I come up empty handed and finally ask one of the bouncers if they saw it. He directs me to the bar who apparently had a drawer full of them. I spotted mine on the top of the pile and thanked him profusely. When asked if I had a tab open, I confessed I’d been sober…the whole night. He chuckled and said “That sucks bro, nice costume though.” Yeah it really did suck. Left for dead, sober, and mildly frustrated. All things considered, I still had a good time and was prepared to fend for myself. I dip out into the cold and wet night to some passing compliments. I sit in my car for about 20 minutes trying to process what the fuck just happened. I decide to do a few rides for a semi-happy ending and crawl into bed, in full costume, at about 6am the next day.
I know this may all sound like I was so keen on this girl, but truth be told, I wasn’t. It was like eating something I haven’t had in some months, then never eat again for a whole year. Ambivalent af.
I guess this is the part were I offer some sort of reflection on this experience and circle back around to some theme or motif that’s worth talking about. But this is already long enough and I’m sleepy so I’ll sign off with this: Chase the money, not the honeys. #SitBack2018