This weekend, two facts of my existence: 1. my newfound bachelorhood, and 2. my jadedness with the KC bar/club scene, played itself out to its logical conclusion. I drove 30 miles west to Lawrence (home of the University of Kansas) to hit the college bars. I had a fucking great time, and will be going back often.. but that’s not the point of this story.
I had been very physically active in the days leading up to this excursion, so I knew if I started drinking I would get run down quickly. If you’re going to be a 30-year-old man in a sea of co-eds, you damn well better not act 30. So, my drink of choice for the evening was Ketel One and Red Bull. The drinking started at 8pm and continued until 2am.
When you order one of these drinks, they don’t pour it in some dinky little cocktail glass. Oh no, it comes in a pint glass. Combine this with the fact that the red bull completely supresses the taste of the alcohol, giving you a drink about as strong-tasting as kool-aid, and you have a recipe for disaster.
Around 1am, the girls I was with insisted we all go to a strip club. So off we went. As a side note let me just say that the strippers there were absolutely horrid. I honestly felt justified in asking the strippers to stuff dollars in my pants for being forced to see them naked. But I digress…
Having a liver pumped full of liquid courage, I found an attractive woman within a minute of being there and started a conversation. A couple minutes later and I was at Uma’s table, now focusing on chatting up her even more attractive sister, Kavita. As is always the case at a strip club at 1:30 in the morning, some guy started being an asshole in some way or another. I don’t even know what the details were, but Uma was upset about something.
Here’s where the Red Bull comes in. Now, I am very much willing to confront an asshole, but I’m generally a peacemaker that will try to calm the situation down. And that’s exactly what I did – err… tried to do. I stood up in front of the guy and just voiced the fact that the girls i was with were upset, and was there some sort of misunderstanding. At that moment, however, the approximately 7 cans of Red Bull I had imbibed over the past 5 hours took their toll. My right leg started to shake. And not some mild little twitch. It was shaking at a speed that simply cannot be achieved through normal neuromotor function. It was like watching an Elvis performance at 8x normal speed.
So, this guy is listening to me talk very diplomatically, in a very calm, measured tones while my right leg is doing something that should not be humanly possible. Judging by the look on his face, I believe his thoughts at the time consisted of, “My god, this fucking psycho is going to rip off my arm, beat me to death with my own severed appendage, and then barbecue the remains.”
The next morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, with my heart beating right around 90 bpm. I am still feeling like shit 2 days later. So, bargoers be forewarned – unless “amped up, sociopathic drunk mother fucker” is the look you’re going for, I highly recommend staying off the Red Bull drinks.