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August 06, 2003Wild Night Pt. 2 - How I Shocked An Uppity ExUpdate: Ed. Note--I've been trolling through Yeti's archives all afternoon trying to find what post of his originally led me to write this story down. I have found it at last. Thanks, Yeti!
A: It was NF. Almost before the words left my lips, she wheeled around, not as smoothly this time, and headed up the stairs. It was the moment of decision. I would either follow furious, drunken ME up to her condo and talk her down over the course of a minimum of an hour and a half, or turn to my Jeep and head over to a certified psycho ex’s condo who appeared to be enjoying a moment of clarity. I cast one last glance at ME as she continued up her stairs. A: Damn. I turned, retrieving my cell phone from my blazer pocket, and marched at a clip to my Jeep. As I walked, the cell phone went through the familiar motions—menu, call log, received calls. NLF’s number was at the top of the list. I climbed into the driver seat, started it up, and pressed send. NLF: What are you doing? A: Well, I’m heading over to see you at the moment. NLF: Really…? A: Yes, ma’am. What are you up to? NLF: Oh, nothing I’m just bored and I wanna do something. A: Like what? NLF: I don’t know, what do you want to do? A: We’ll figure it out when I get there. NLF: Okay, come in the front door, I don’t feel like unlocking the back. A: See you in a bit.
NLF and I had started dating about a year before this night. At the time we met I had been on a self-imposed sabbatical from dating for approximately nine months after a particularly nasty dating scenario fell apart. When I first met her, she seemed like the perfect lady for me. I fell hard and fast. She did the same. For a few months, we had the most incredible relationship. We both lived in little towns well away from Little Rock, and we’d meet up on weekends in the city, occasionally during the week. NLF was from a farm family that had plenty of inherited money, and she was never afraid to let anyone know about their supposed wealth. What she didn’t note was that her mother and brother (her father having passed away many years before) jealously controlled all of that money. However, she would shower me with gifts whenever she had a funding stream. At times, it felt uncomfortable because I knew I wouldn’t reciprocate because my budget didn’t allow it. She was the kind of girl who always had to have the top shelf brand name clothes. She attended every trunk show announced. She came out to our weekly Sunday afternoon football games in Riverfront Park dressed to the nines in designer sweats and a Burberry scarf. She even carried a Burberry umbrella. She was certainly prissy and loved being that way. My first hint that she may be a little too fixated on wealth and materials came when she decided that she didn’t like one of my very close girl friends. She uttered this phrase, “I could buy and sell her.” For a fellow with a bit of a populist bent, such phrases don’t sit well. I let it pass, though, because I was in love. When I started to notice it entering conversation more often, it started to wear on me. Still, I said nothing. After a few months of dating and growing ever closer, her brother and mother, holders of the purse strings, took notice. Could a certain young man be at the walls, about to breach the fortress that they had constructed around the three of them? They had to stop me. And stop me they did. They did by simultaneously tearing me down to NLF and turning off her funding stream. Unbeknownst to me, she ever so slowly began drifting away until one day I realized we weren’t a couple like we had been. I brought the issue to her and she had no answers. We never actually broke up, but our contact became sporadic at best. An email here, a phone call there, until any word from her became out of the ordinary. If I had to say the moment that it was officially over, was when we had one of the occasional dates in Little Rock after all of this. We had gone to a concert and then back to her condo for the night. In the middle of the night, she woke me up from a dead sleep screaming, pushing, and hitting at me. Once I finally came to my senses and enjoined in whatever bizarre argument we were having, she got nasty. When she said, “Adam, I can buy and sell you,” it was too much. Even after that, she’d call or email periodically. It was always random and unpredictable. However, I had come to expect that it would come at an inopportune time. Eventually, it would come at an extremely inopportune time and that’s how it happened this night. However, given my tendency to turn things around for the best I took it and ran with it. If she was having a moment of sanity, and it gave me an appealing alternative to being with a furious drunken ME who was intent on giving me the silent treatment, I was in. And I had a dish of revenge to serve on a cold plate. I pulled into her condo and parked next to her Trailblazer. Walking around to the front door, I thought to myself, “What the hell is going to happen this time?” I opened the front door, walked in and took a left into the kitchen to get a beer. NLF always got a six pack when we met up in Little Rock. A: Honey, I’m home! NLF: Hey, I’m back here (she answered from the bedroom) A: You want a beer? NLF: No thanks. I retrieved my beer, popped the top, and walked back to her bedroom. It was almost surreal being back in this condo after six months. It was strange knowing that the last time I was here, she had woke in the middle of the night like a banshee and said so many hurtful things. A: Hey stranger! NLF: Hey you. NLF was already in her pajamas, but obviously awake and restless. A Cosmopolitan magazine lay next to her on the bed. I walked over to her side of the bed and sat down. A: So what’s going on with you—it’s been forever. NLF: Just working a lot you know. A: Do I ever. I’ve been killing myself at work. NLF: Well, what do you want do? A: You haven’t decided yet? NLF: NO—you’re the boy you’re supposed to do that. A: Well, a lot of our normal places are either closed or will be by the time get there, so the options are limited. NLF: So, where can we go. A: Well, at this hour it’s usually down to two places. NLF: Okay, and…. Throughout this conversation, something had been building in the back of my mind. A thought was developing into an idea of how I could really shock this girl who thought so much of money and required top shelf brands. As I realized there was only two places we could go, I narrowed it down to the one place where she would be out of place among people who don’t have the kind of money she has. A place where folks that she looked down on in her small town are the rulers of the joint. A place that she had told me before she had never been, but would like to go sometime. A place where I could feel comfortable with my boots, and her top shelf brands would be looked on in disrepute. A: Have you got some blue jeans? NLF: Yeah…. A: Get’em on—we’re going to the Cowboy. NLF: Really!? A: Yes, ma’am. NLF changed quickly into, you guessed it brand name blue jeans, not Levi’s, some other brand that screamed hoity-toity, a sweater and a cute little jacket. We stepped into the icy air of the early morning of February 1 and loaded up in her Trailblazer. She drove as I gave her directions of how to get to the Electric Cowboy. Throughout the ride, I went through the many scenarios of how I might shock her with a dose of reality while there. Finally, I concluded that just taking her in and sitting with her would be shock enough. There was no need to accentuate the experience. If opportunity arose, then I would deal with it at that time. We pulled into the parking lot and as usual it was filled up. We continued into the overflow parking which was located adjacent to the club property and consisted of a few acres of gravel lot. The parking attendant directed us with a flashlight to the nearest spot. We parked and walked the two blocks back to the entrance to the club. As usual again, there was a line of folks. We made our way in finally, paid our cover and entered into the cavernous room that is the main club. I walked over to nearest bar and bought us a couple of beers. Returning to her, I suggested we take a walk around so she could see the whole place and to look for a table. The look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were wide with wonder. Cowboy hats, boots, girls in halter-tops or less, everything you could imagine would be in a latter day version of the Urban Cowboy was on parade that evening. I smiled slightly to keep from breaking into a full-fledged grin. When we reached the mechanical bull, I decided to linger a bit. We saw a few riders thrown before I told her about my time up on that very mechanical bull. To say she was out of her element is an understatement. We wandered back around to where we started and found an empty table near the highest traffic area of the club. We sat down, and I ordered us a couple of more beers. We talked, caught up on each other’s lives, and had a rather enjoyable time visiting. As we talked, I watched as her eyes looked around, still trying to comprehend the setting and the people within it. My plan was working in a subtle way. However, she had not been shocked yet. I excused myself to use the restroom. As I returned, I stopped about thirty feet away and watched her for a bit. She was still looking around, still grasping at a way to understand this place. I also couldn’t help but to see the NLF I had fell for initially. She was an adorable young lady and when she was herself, you almost can’t help but to love her. I returned to the table and we continued our conversation. A: So what do you think of this place? NLF: It’s DEFINITELY different. A: I tried to tell you this the first time you said you wanted to come here. NLF: I know. But, I’m glad I came. At least, I can say I’ve seen it. I don’t think I’ll be— Her head turned to a guy about 15 feet behind our table. I followed her gaze and saw Drunken, Angry Guy #1. He was yelling at someone on the opposite side of our table. I turned to see who was the target of this drunken diatribe. About twenty feet on the other side of our table, I spotted Drunken, Angry Guy #2. NLF saw me turn and I indicated the location of #2. Drunken Angry #1 had finished his spiel and was standing there with the freakish facial expressions that only the passion of drunken anger can create. Drunken Angry #2 had yelled something back and #1 stood there seething. NLF: I think that guy is going to fight him. A: Naw, it’s probably just over some girl. NLF: But, I think he’s gonna FIGHT. A: Look, they’re not going to fight, and if they do, it’s no big deal. They’ll throw a couple of punches, fall to the ground and wrestle for a minute, and in less than 90 seconds the bouncers will grab them both and they’ll be out here. It’s not a big deal. NLF: Adam, those guys are going to. A: The only way they’re going to fight is if there is some kind of trigger. NLF: A what? A: A trigger. NLF: What are you talking about, a trigger? A: They won’t fight unless something or someone says something or does something that just puts them over the edge. Right now they’re just drunk, mad, and yelling. To actually fight, it’s going to take something extra to make them actually go after each other.
A: Look, its going to take something else to actually get them to fight, like, well, just watch this. As we’re having this discussion, Drunken, Angry Guys #1 and #2 have continued to hurl insults at each other. I hear #2 yell something back at #1. I turn in my chair to face Drunken Angry Guy #1. His face is still doing Drunken, Angry contortions. I make eye contact with him for a moment. A: Are you gonna take that kind of shit from him?!?! NLF: ADAM! Drunken, Angry Guy #1 looks at me in shock for a moment, his face contorts again, he nods once empathetically. I watch as he swiftly marches past our table towards #2. NLF and I watch as he approaches Drunken, Angry Guy #2, pulls his fist back and punches him with all his drunken fury. I turn back to NLF never changing my tone or demeanor; she on the other hand had become a bit rattled. NLF: HE JUST HIT HIM! A: Of course he did. NLF: BUT, ADAM, THEY’RE FIGHTING! A: I told you they just needed a trigger. NLF: THEY’RE FIGHTING ON THE GROUND, ADAM! A: Yes, and in about 30 seconds the bouncers will break it up and kick both of them out. NLF and I watched as the two writhed and wrestled on the ground. Within the thirty-second window, the bouncers had pulled them both off the ground, applied headlocks, and headed towards the exit. I looked at NLF. Her eyes were wide with shock. It took all in my power to keep from laughing out loud at her expression. I got here. She had been shocked. Revenge was served cool. A: You about ready to go? NLF: Yeah, I think so. I leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. A: You’re a trooper, you know that? Michael Williams -- Master of None linked with First Ever Spherewide Short Story Symposium Comments
IS there going to be a part 3?????????? That sounds like my kind of place.... I love honky tonks with just plain jane folks that just look forward to Friday nights and the weekends.... two-stepping their troubles away with anyone that will take their lead. Damn, I miss those nights... You're right.. doesn't sound like your type of girl..... "THE ONE" anyways... I am laughing so hard my sides hurt. "They just need a trigger." "You going to take that from him?" Remind me never to be in a drunken rage around you. Instigator. Posted by: TheYeti at August 6, 2003 04:18 PMWhy is it that I'm more interested in the kiss? *blinks* Damn us women with our logic. Posted by: Ashia at August 7, 2003 07:49 AM*CHANTING* PART 3 PART 3 PART 3 PART 3 Posted by: h at August 7, 2003 12:06 PMAwesome story! Ha ha ha, the electric cowboy... I was there last night (not the one in Little Rock) Posted by: Julia at August 7, 2003 02:45 PMBut, part 3 would talk about sex, a flash bulb moment in history, and an awkward goodbye....Do you really want to hear about all that? Posted by: Adam at August 7, 2003 05:41 PMDamn, we never have fights at my honky-tonk Posted by: CovertAnalyst at October 2, 2003 09:25 PMPost a comment
 
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