Oh hi! Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker. That was spoken by the character
Willy Wonka, who is about as sane as the guy who I met last week. If you've seen
the movie there's a moment where the kids rush into the candy room to consume
as much sugar as they possibly can. And then a weirdo in a purple coat
systematically murders them. I think. It's been a while since I've seen it. The
point is they can't control themselves. I'm gonna be telling you a story about
how I got incredibly drunk, how that night ended much differently than I
thought, and then how I discovered that maybe I'm not the person that I thought
I was. Hopefully we'll share a few laughs along the way, but no promises on that. So
I was sitting in a bar. The Bear and Kilt to be specific. Bear as is in the animal not,
bare as in what's under your kilt. I was meeting somebody whom I've only met a
couple of times before. It's one of those weird starting-to-be-friends
relationships, where I'm a bit nervous, they're a bit nervous,
we're not sure what jokes can be said. You know, just feeling each other out in
a platonic way. Because it's a bar they serve alcohol, and as much as I want to
get one of those drinks that comes with a mini umbrella I decide to make a cool
first impression. So I ordered one with two mini umbrellas. Except I don't. I
order a lager. This allows me to loosen up a bit and
because I also overthink pretty much everything I start to realize that I
have no idea what to do with my hands. Or, generally, what to do with any part of my
body. What this really leads to is that if there is food or drink in front of me I
have to consume it. It's not even a question. I'm going to Cookie Monster
whatever it is that's on the table. So we make some small talk. I don't bring
up Willy Wonka even once. I drink the beer, laugh, say something, wonder if I'm
being witty and charming. I worry that I'm talking too much. I drink, and then I
drink, and then I drink some more. And soon I have an empty glass. Waiter comes
over, asks if I want another and before thinking I say yes. The person I was with
also asked for another. Though even that is weird. One beer is fine for me. I don't
really need another, but here we were enjoying ourselves and I kind of
forgot and just did it without a thought. We continue our conversation.
It's been about an hour, and because he is much more cultured than I am he lets
me know that there is a poetry reading across the street that we should go to.
In fact one of his friends is the poet, and he does know it. So we finish
up, go over to the theater, we hear poetry, we hear poetry talked about. We get to be
incredibly pretentious and I love it! Now here's where the night takes a weird
turn. When we had arrived to this free poetry reading we were given two tickets,
and so after all the presentations were over they let us know that there is food
and refreshments available. Those two tickets we were given allow us to have
two beverages for free. Why is everybody not going to poetry readings!? We're at
the bar, he gets a glass of red wine, I get a glass of white. We're having
conversations with the other patrons. This is when an elderly man approached
us and I wish I could tell you or remember why he opened up the
conversation with what he did, but to my recollection it seemed kind of out of
nowhere. But he started with, "As you know America is ... a racist country!" Now I'm not
really that interested debating that point. We don't really need to get into
it. But my friend who is much more opinionated than I am pipes up saying, "I
don't think it's that easy." Well the gentleman – you know I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
We really need to start to give names. I just don't want to use real names. So
let's call my new friend Casey, and the other man is ... Kasem. So Casey has just
said, "I don't think it's that easy." And Kasem's eyes get super big and then an
anger comes over his face. He says, "I have done years of research on politics. How
dare you say I'm dumb!" Whoa. Okay. So things have escalated. I have turtled
myself real good, which is my go-to mode when there is conflict in my life.
"Who left the dirty dishes in the sink?" Don't say anything.
"You accidentally bumped into me!" I crawl underneath the nearest table never to be
seen again. "There's blood everywhere. How is there so much blood? And what's
with all the pentagrams?" You know that might be a very specific one for me.
Regardless I do my best Mitch McConnel impression and waddle away. So things are
tense in this confrontation. Kennedy ... Kasem ... whatever. The older guy is getting
more and more exasperated. Remember Casey has not said that he supports Donald
Trump or war. Quite far from it. And yet that is what he's being accused of. That
he supports racism, that he doesn't value human life, just a lot of
accusations. This was mostly a diatribe against the both of us, although
primarily towards Casey. I simply took a step to the side and prepared myself to
block a punch if I thought it was going to get to that. Which I was actually
pretty convinced was gonna happen. Which, like, what am I gonna do? What are the
optics on that? 30 Year Old Guy Shoves an Elderly Man to the Floor at a Poetry
Reading. I wouldn't be able to stand the accusations and assumptions the public
would have of me. First among them, who goes to a poetry reading? Now that one
glass of white wine grows into two, same for Casey except with red. We're still
being lectured by this guy, and then the talk moves to India. Now I need to say
here that there are not many things that get me more upset than when people are
intellectually or morally inconsistent. And that is what happened next. This guy
who is all about humanity and valuing life went off on this tangent on how he
hopes China invades India and kills most of its citizens. And that's kind of when
I stopped paying attention. This was also when I needed to lean on the bar or else
I was going to fall over. I was well and truly blitzed. The last thing this
guy asked us was – and I apologize because I'm gonna get a little vulgar – he asked,
"What's so wrong if a woman wants to have sex in the butt?" I ...
I ... I don't know. I – how did we get here? He did leave and I turned to Casey and I
said, "This is not how I thought this night was gonna go. We've learned a lot
about each other." It's like soldiers coming back from war. There's a
connection that they have had that only they will truly understand. What's so
wrong if a woman wants to have sex in the butt will be our Normandy. People
started filing out and Casey and I went with his poet friend, and a few others, to
the same bar – The Bear and Kilt – that had started the evening. It felt
like I was an observer at the Algonquin Round Table. Where a bunch of wits and
intellectuals had interesting conversations. But that also lasted until
1:00 a.m. which is like four hours after my normal bedtime, and I needed to be up
at 6:00. So the next day was a particularly kind of awful. I think the
reason that I've kept going back to this evening even after a week is that I felt
like an observer the entire night. I was this camera that floated through the
story but I never felt like the protagonist. Which is a feeling I have a
lot. Where I'm not actively driving a narrative but merely being buffeted along
by the plot. Maybe one day that'll change. But what about you? Have you had weird situations happen
at poetry readings? Are you the driver or the participant in your narrative?
What's your Normandy? Let me know down in the comments below. Thanks so much for
watching! My name is Kyle. I upload videos every Monday and Thursday. If you want to
help support me even more, consider backing me on Patreon for as little as
$1 per month. What's your favorite poem? I think mine is: lemonade, lemonade, around
the corner– no. Sorry. That is ... it is not appropriate. I'm sorry.
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