Sunday night Crackey calls me up to invite me to go to the city with her and her friends Natasha and Nicole. We park in the local equivalent of Chinatown (read: bad drivers galore) and walk over to the subway.
Despite the fact that neither Crackey nor I posses an ID with which we would be able to drink legally (or technically illegally), we somehow come to the conlusion that getting into a Manhattan club should be easy. This of course is about as simple as keeping a sex offender away from child pornography sites. After waiting for 3 minutes we loose confidence and head into the less upscale part of town, in hopes that a child molester or someone with an asian fetish runs the bar so that I can get in.
Long story short, a little after midnight we end up downtown in a mexican bar/restaurant with only a dozen customers and we are the only females without dates. The bartender is a typical looking mexican guy, short and a little greasy, who speaks broken english with a nearly incomprehensible accent. To our left is an attractive black couple, with the man shamelessly trying to liquor up his date. On our right is a whorishly dressed woman surrounded on either side by greasy looking men, with the sex appeal of oiled up potbellied pigs with chest hair, that are clearly getting her drunk in hopes of a late night gangbang. Across from us is a boring looking couple, where the male keeps looking at us, and finally Nicole waves at him. He too is trying to get his date drunk, and I'm starting to notice a pattern in this place.
We quickly order some drinks at costly $13 a piece. These better be some good fucking drinks. Deciding to get the most bang for my buck, I order a "Checker Fuel" which is your average pina colada amped up with rum and 151. Half an hour after we get our drinks the bartender starts cleaning up and we realize that
a) we are not yet drunk
b) we are not likely to get drunk
c) we are not going to be able to order more drinks
At one o'clock we start to pack up our stuff, chug the last of our drinks and start to leave since we are the only ones left, aside from the bartender who has just locked the entrance. He then comes up to us and asks us if we would like another shot. We politely decline and start inching towards the door. Then he comes in with the best pick up line I've ever heard come from a mexican mouth "i will give you shots for free".
At that point I realized I was a little over buzzing and on my way towards drunk from my first drink, but still accepted the double shot of tequila that the bartender presented us with. We took our shots with the bartender, thanked him, and like the gracious people we are, tried to leave. Then he said the magic words again,
"Do you want more free shots?"
We had only known this guy for less than an hour, and already he knew how to hold my attention. He offered us more tequila, but none of our stomachs could take two double shots of tequila in 5 mintues. He then offered us a large variety of highly abrasive drinks which Crackey (the driver) and Natasha were politely declining. Then came the "I'll do it if you do it" look from Nicole, and
a) I can't pass up a challange like that
b) I can't pass up free alcohol.
The bartender took our consent to a soco and lime double shot as group consent and poured us 4 more shots. We clinked glasses, took then shots, then once again attempted to leave.
Now of course, the shots came with a cost, other than a morning hangover. The bartender came around and hugged each of us in turn and gave each of us a kiss on the cheek. Someone then had the manners to remember to ask his name which was Miguel or Manuel or something like that.
We told him we'd be coming back and then round 2 of the hug/kiss goodbye came as he asked each of us our names. Following that we briskly walked to the door in hopes of avoiding round 3 of the game and realized that the door was locked. SHIT. Then came round 3 of the mexican hug/kiss/grope goodbye game. We finally got out of the restaurant, at which point I was fully drunk, and I'm pretty sure the others were feeling it as well.
Unfortunately this story now comes to an anti-climactic ending, followed only by a drunk subway ride home, and massive amounts of drunk phone calls to god know who. Once at home, in lieu of sleeping I played family feud on my cell phone and an incredibly drunk me got text messages from "bigdik4u2c". You can speculate as to what you think the messages said. A great ending to the night.......on the bright side, at least at the bar we only got liquored up, and not gang banged.