The Phone
This adventure begins at a house
party and ends in a strip club parking lot.
Hosting
a rager at my house started out relatively calm with a killer beer pong
tournament and a couple handles of tequila. Once everyone was well toasted an
idea was brought up in jest.
“We
should go to a strip club.” John said not loud enough to be declared an
announcement, but it did spur on Donny who had heard the statement, and quickly
yelled “Fuck yea we should go to a strip club!”
Now the whole group was aware of what
seemed like a promising idea and with the brain power of eight drunks, we
managed to call up two taxis. Within minutes of arriving at the club two were
down for the count, laying their heads on the table in defeat. No more than ten
minutes in, half the group was prepared to leave behind the strippers we
rapidly annoyed, so another cab was requested.
Waiting outside with our two semi-conscious
friends sitting on the curb, my buddy Louis and I had thought the uneventful night
was over. Suddenly a flustered stripper and what was supposed to be an
intimidating bouncer come out and began yelling at the group, with claims that
Louis had stolen the strippers’ phone. Despite their inebriation, the two
buddies who should be fast asleep were renewed with a surge of energy and began
to argue on Louis’ behalf. After a tense 10 minutes, that in our minds sounded
like a court case out of Law and Order, but was likely incoherent rambling, the
stripper and the ‘security’ acquitted us of all charges and left us in the
parking lot.
Happy that the situation did not
escalate into violence we began laughing about what had just transpired. When
it calmed down, Louis pulled out the stolen phone with a big grin, confessing he
thought it was our friend’s phone but didn’t want to admit the stripper was
right. He walked back in the club and told the cover charge employee that he
found the phone in the parking lot and believes it belonged to the stripper who
just walked in.
God damn it Louis.
