I'm THAT friend that gets wrangled into going to Indigo. The one that can't dance unless he's comedy option drunk, doesn't exactly want to find a one night stand, and mostly just wants to drink and chill with buds while listening to D&B. I can live with just that at least. I hadn't been there in ages and my old friend visited town again so I decided "Sure, why not? At least I can get blitzed enough to forget I'm here."
Therein lies the problem. I get in, throw down $5 for cover and $1 for coat check. No biggie. I get to the triangular bar island near the nuclear toilets and manage to get two Miller Lite aluminums in roughly about 5 minutes of waiting which isn't bad on a packed night which I quickly dispose of.
This begins to worry me. I am not getting drunk fast enough for how trashy everyone around me is. I switch to liquor. I hit up the same island again, 5 minute wait, I get a vodka red bull that is the size of a small Dixie cup. There is barely any booze in this drink. I am upset, yet adamant in my quest for drunken forgetfulness.
I move with my group to the lower area on the left with the long vertical bar island. I switch back to beer and decide to order two pints of Sam Adams, just anything to keep the train of forget moving. The tiny female bartender took roughly 15 minutes to notice me as I tried to flag her down. At least I eventually left with my beers, which I downed. I returned for another two. I waited in the same spot as before for over a good 20-30 minutes waiting for the bartender who in this time period waited on cuter men, chatted with them, and proceeded to serve everyone else but myself and the two gruff looking frat-types next to me. I left the bar area, flagged down one of the Miller Lite girls, and just bought an aluminum bottle from them while I waited. Ahh, convienence.
The two frat guys took issue with this massive wait unlike myself, who was still patient due the fact I wasn't nearly buzzed enough. One of them tried to flag the girl down one last time and when she walked by, they were ignored. He'd had enough. Fratman yelled after her, "FUCKING WUSS!". Apparently this was upsetting enough to this novice bartender to have two bouncers come down, take Fratman under each arm, and throw him out as if he was in a cartoon western. Shortly after this, the little girl audibly cried and left the bar island area to go into the back, either to sob about how terrible at the job she was or for the sake of drama.
My friend, noticing this altercation, the overall look of pain and confusion on my face from the lack of booze, took me by the arm and proceeded to drag me out of Indigo. She promised me we'd go to Zeno's later.
We did.
It was so much better. read more