I approached the door of this nightclub with the confidence of the night creature I am. Darkness wrapping itself around my shoulders provides comfort like the throw blanket my Nana made for me when I was seven. I am the night and the night is me.
I had only taken two or three steps into the building when I realized that my life was forever changed. A chill tickled my body as I entered. There was darkness. There was shadow. There was the night, normally reserved for the outside. It tiptoed back and forth, through the doors and windows, clinging to every wall and corner. Every table and chair. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Are there even stairs here? The confusion spun my head, I was disassociated. How can this be? God, how can the night be inside? The dimness was everywhere. It was everyone. It was everywhen and everyhow. "Someone please help me," I thought to myself. I don't know where to go or what to do. I searched the shadows for any sign of direction like the last Titanic survivor hoping hopelessly for one last gasp of air. I must flee...
Then I saw him. To say that I saw the true face of an angel that day wouldn't do this vision justice. Our eyes met and he beckoned me to him. Not with his words mind you, not even his eyes called out. It was if the very essence of his soul reached out to comfort me and pull me towards the bar. I had found my imbibing Lancelot. His presence soothed my every pain, my every worry. His existence was like a giant womb wrapping me tightly in its embryonic fluid. His smile was brighter than that time that time Indiana Jones burned all those bad guys with the Ark of the Covenant.
"Hi. I'm Cullen. What can I get for you friend."
Friend? Friend? Did he just call me friend? The word shot through my soul like a Native American's spear pierces buffalo flesh. I have spent time in my life hoping and wishing for world peace, unlimited riches and beef jerky ice cream, but I have never been so presumptuous as to ever think I could be counted as friend by one such as this...Cullen.
I realized at this point that he was trying to serve me. I could hardly stand. My knees became weak and my buttocks cramped. My stomach turned and my palms became sweaty. In all his wonder, he wanted to do something for me. Was this the child of Mother Teresa, Ghandi, Abraham Lincoln and Jim Morrison? I summoned forth a tiger spring of courage and asked this pre-Canonized, booze saint what they had on special.
"What have I done?!" How could I dare to ask something 'special' of the embodiment of proof of the divine? I knew I wasn't worthy to stand in his presence any longer and wanted to run. I desperately felt the need to flagellate for my transgressions. This, however, was not to be. His grace and humility was an exhibit of what all people, animals and bugs should aspire to.
"Bloodshots are on special. Like one?" I couldn't hear his voice as much as I felt the passion of the 15th Street Baptist choir envelop me and I knew what this Perseus-tiger-man was asking. I squeeked out a "yes please" and he began his magic. Magic...yes. This is how it shall be known.
Arthur C. Clarke once said, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. I don't really know what that means, but as I watched St. Perfect swirl bottles I could only imagine Gustavo Dudamel conducting a symphony with musicians made of rainbows and fairy dust.
I am fuzzy on the details for the next few minutes. I think I was entering the first stage of shock or organ failure as no human is prepared to accept a dose of greatness so large. I know there was an exchange of currency and some discussion on String Theory, Pan-Asian fusion and the Moody Blues but it wasn't until the moment that pure, unfiltered pleasure shot through my body, do I remember the details. This "Bloodshot," as General McBlissfulLove called it, touched my lips and I felt as if I were being kissed by a unicorn while surfing on clouds of joy. I don't mean frilly unicorns. I mean unicorns like the one from Legend that could kill people.
I must skip forward, for it was at this point when my body could no longer stand the awesomeness. The next few hours are a blur. I didn't drink an excessive amount of alcohol, but I took in as much of this Cullen as I could. I was tipsy on this master of the libations and didn't want to leave, but sadly I know I must lest I be trapped in his web of glory forever.
I sit here in my room, alone. I think back on this night fondly knowing I am forever changed. I just wonder if my brush with greatness made me better for having it or left me with an inability to truly love. read more