Bar Brawls, Mel Gibson, and Mars


A couple weeks back Lincoln and I almost got in a bar fight.  And by bar fight I mean some drunk girl got all hammered pissed at Lincoln and her three guy friends threatened to take him out back and pummel the ever-living shit out of him. 

It was a hoot. 

But let me start from the beginning.

We arrived at a local watering hole which used to be a fun bar but now it’s dead everytime you go in there and they have 19-year-old girls bartending (which is a plus for the guys, I guess).  I had just gotten done with work and I wanted to stop for a drink.  Upon arrival and the ordering of our drinks we discovered that Signs was on.  So we immediately stopped talking to one another and became heavily engrossed in the film.  I have to admit that we watched the movie for a good half hour before I leaned over and whispered to Lincoln: “Do you realize how pathetic we are?  It’s Friday night and we’re at a bar watching Signs.” 
He laughed.  And then shushed me. 

For some reason I had gotten it into my head that I hated this movie.  But as I watched it I couldn’t remember why I hated it. 

First, it’s pre-crazy Mel Gibson.  You watch him before he want bat shit anti-semitic and you’re like, “Damn.  He was good.” 

Second, his wife is dead and you discover that she was in a horrific car accident.  But before she dies they show her alive and the only reason she’s alive is because THE CAR THAT SLICED HER IN HALF IS HOLDING HER TOGETHER.  That’s incredible.

Third, Abigail Breslin saves the day with all those damn glasses of water.  

Fourth, the part where Mel tosses Joaquin a bat and says “Swing away.”

But I digress.  The point of this nonsense about Signs is that Lincoln and I were enjoying a movie at a deserted bar on a Friday night when some lunatic drunk girl started dancing like an asshole by herself on the empty dance floor.  I am, by no means, an even slightly good dancer but this girl was hilarious.  She danced around like a fool and made references to her vagina with her hands.  Then she started to mime that she had a penis.  And by mime, I mean she pretended to stroke a huge, imaginary cock.  Swear to god.  I slapped Lincoln in an effort to get him to turn around and check out the shit show on the dance floor.  He did and then said, “Nice dick” to the footloose fiend.

Apparently this offended her. 

The next thing I knew she was in Lincoln’s face and then back to her posse of fools and tons of yelling and lots of threats ensued.  A compilation of the threats are below:

  • **pounding on the bar** “Do you wanna go outside?!?!?!?”
  • I’ll fucking kick your ass!!!
  • I’ll fucking kill you!
  • Are you fucking kidding me with this shit!??!?!
  • **POUNDING ON THE BAR**

At this point, Lincoln and I are thoroughly confused.  Here we are just trying to have a relaxing time watching Signs and Lincoln happens to compliment a girl about her huge fake dick and now we’ve got some rage fight on our hands. 

It was incredible. 

I had no idea what to do.  So Lincoln calmly and rationaly approached the merry band of pyschos and apologized for whatever they were angry about.  Frankly, I don’t know what they were so angry about and I’m pretty sure that they didn’t either.  At this point, the girl that started everything had gone from tiny dancer, to menacing rage machine, to blubbering freak show.  The dudes accepted Lincoln’s apology and upon making his way back to me he announced that he was going to buy them all shots.   But I’m not in the business of rewarding bad behavior and I’m positive that these people did not need anymore alcohol.  So I had to veto Lincoln’s declaration.

 

There’s a point to this.  Three actually:

1. Drunk idiot girls are incredibly agitating and I’m in no means prepared to fight.  Ever (I’m not saying I won’t do it, I just won’t be properly prepared).

2. Watching Signs only reminded me of this movie and how much I want to watch it:

Jackpot.

 

This is how happy Lincoln was because he didn’t get his ass kicked on our movie night:

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