I was promised a glory hole…read more
My boys and I drove over 4 hours from Dallas because my roommate, Michael Jackson (no, I'm not making that up), found an ad for what was supposed to be The Glory Hole Of The Century. 'Ol' Faithful', they called it. Five of us were crammed into a tiny, smelly, nasty, souped up Honda Civic Type R for what seemed like an eternity, lured under false pretenses. Don't get me wrong, we still got our happy ending.
I say the Civic is 'nasty' because my friend never cleans it out, but it's also 'nasty' in a cool way because it's totally decked. We're talking LED lights, a digital touch screen, a leather steering wheel cover, a sick spoiler, fog lights... the works. Keith's dad hooked it up. I don't even think it's street legal, but the cops would have to catch him first. In all honesty I don't think Keith would ever try to evade the cops. He hasn't got it in him; hasn't got that warrior spirit.
I guess Michael found an ad on 4chan or something, and it was Keith's 43rd birthday, so we decided to surprise him. It was really generous of Keith to make the round trip drive, which totaled out to be over 8 hours. On his birthday. He's a good guy, no matter what his ex wife says about him. They have differing views on the subject. It's kind of a 'he said, she said' sort of thing and I'm trying to remain neutral. You get it.
When we got to Hotshots we played it pretty cool. We got a table for the 5 of us, ordered a round, and let the sweet anticipation continue to build. Just 3 of the 5 of us had visited a glory hole before, myself included. We had the entire car ride to explain in vivid detail the sheer ecstasy that Keith Bradford and Michael Jackson were about to behold. I think it's the anonymity that makes it such an exciting and truly unique experience.
We ordered some potato skins to start. We went with the bbq pork, which was amazing. We wanted some oysters to boost our libidos (not that they needed boosting), but they don't serve oysters. A couple of quick google searches convinced us that the oyster-aphrodisiac thing is all a myth anyways.
We decided to take turns going into the bathroom; insisting that the birthday boy/ designated driver went first. Because he was popping his glory-hole-cherry, we ordered him a Shirley Temple, which he seemed to enjoy. Much to everyone's extreme disappointment, there was no glory hole. There wasn't even a hole. No holes, nor glory. Not even the remanence, the ghostly whispers of glory past. There weren't even any condoms in the trash can.
When the entrees came out our moods immediately turned around. We did kind of a family style thing. We got some wings, a pizza, a couple of burgers... the crab dip, a couple cups of gumbo... The gumbo is legit, btw! I grew up in Utah, which has a surprisingly good gumbo scene, so I know what I'm talking about. The PB&J burger was on point.
Thanks for redeeming what was about to be a complete failure of a roadtrip, Hotshots! And thanks for making Keith's birthday a special one!