A Night to Remember

So, now that I’ve healed up well enough to venture out into the world, four of my poker pals took me out for dinner last night, over the strenous objections of my wife and daughter. They can read these guys like a book, because dinner was Buffalo chicken wings in a bar.
We got clipped for a ten dollar cover charge at the door, because, as the bouncer explained, it’s a topless bar. I offered the guy a fiver and promised I’d close one eye, but the fellas told me to put my money away, it was their treat.

Dennis the cop is a recovering alcoholic, so we had a designated driver. I had a ginger ale with my wings, which disgusted everyone, considering it cost $5.50. So after that I had a beer, which cost, yep, $5.50. It tasted great, so I had another to see if it was a fluke, and no, that one was good too. After the fourth one, I tried an experiment to see if it would also work with tequila. It did.

After a while, one of the dancers came over and sat on my lap. I couldn’t strut because I was sitting down, but it made me feel good to know I was still a babe magnet, even though I was old enough to be her father. Anyways, it turns out that one of the guys slipped her a ten spot for a lap dance. That was the first time I ever had one, and I don’t recommend it. It’s a two minute ride of frustration, and in the end you have nothing to show for it but a woodie and a thinner wallet. I asked her if her mother knew what she did for a living, but she pretended not to hear me. When it was over, I offered to give her a lap dance for only a fin, but she turned me down.

After a while, we blew that popsicle stand and crawled to another bar. This one was a quiet little neighbourhood mom and pop with just a few people and an 8 ball pool table. We spent the rest of the evening there, shooting pool, drinking beer and telling lies. It got a little sappy at one point when they started talking about how worried they were about the operation. Fortunately, I was able to put a stop to it by making an awesome bank shot, after which they turned on me like a pack of wolves. Sure, it was a lucky shot, but only a putz would admit it.

I got home a little after one. Momma was waiting up but she was only a little bit mad.

Thank you, my pals. I wish I could tell you how much I love you guys, but I’d never hear the end of it. And anyways, I don’t have to tell you. You know already

I’ve questioned guys on lap dances. I just don’t get it. When I explained that it seemed to be a very frusterating concept, my friend just grinned and said in a dreamy voice: “Yea…” Whatever THAT means.

Actually, I don’t see the point in them either. The entire joint is simply one big tease. And to make it worse, it’s an expensive tease. I’d guess that roughly .05% of the guys that go in there get to actually go home with the girls. The rest of us just go home frustrated.

Of course, this is Sober Flyp. Drunk Flyp generally thinks strip clubs are a good idea at about 3:30 am.

I didn’t put this up to talk about lap dances.

I’m waiting for someone to tell me that the bank shot wasn’t luck, and that I’m probably a very skilled pool player.

Sheesh. I should have included a map.

So, how were the hot wings, Wally?

So, where did you go, Wally? House of Lancaster? God, I miss the old neighbourhood.

My fate keeps getting in the way of my destiny.

Actually, we went to some joint on the Airport strip. Fortunately, I’ve forgotten the name of it.

We finished the evening on the Lakeshore in a place called the Crown. I think. I’m a little hazy about the where’s and when’s. I just know I had a great time.

Hangover? Umm, no thank you. I already have one.


Sorry, couldn’t resist. :slight_smile: I’m amazed nobody else got to that one first.

That Rufus.

He could give a robin the first two pecks and still beat him to the worm. :slight_smile:

Ok, I want to hear all of the details of the bank shot.

In the meantime, I’d like to do some pool bragging myself:

Made the eight-on-the-break once in my life. The guy I was playing with said that was an automatic loss. I reminded him that it was an automatic win. We got into a slight scuffle and the bartender had to come over to raise my arm in victory. At this point, the whole bar was looking in our direction and I felt like a hero when the patrons cheered my victory.

I made three jump shots in a row a couple weeks ago. Jump shots are my specialty, however, as my father told me the secret.

I also made a three rail bank shot on the eight ball. Wow, that was a great night.

Best break I ever made in my life - a rocket of a shot sending three, count’em, three red balls (UK pool here guys, I’m sorry) into different pockets.

OK, so the cue ball ended up behind a video game machine at the other end of the room. I said this was my best break, I didn’t say it was a good one! :wink:

It sounds like you’ve got some great friends Wally and yeah, they know, guys don’t talk about it though, they just give each other punches on the arm and share insults – but to continue the hijack – the best lucky shot I ever made was to break and sink the one AND nine for an instant win - yeah, I play nine ball.

All you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right kind of people.

I’m the best there is Fats…err…Wally…even if you beat me I’m still the best.

aha in the movie *Hustler {/i]

Hi, aha, how the hell are ya? Glad to have you here.
Ed Zotti

The Crown? That place on Lakeshore around 32nd street? I remember when it was called “Reflections”…my band played there a number of times. Before that is was a fish & chip shop. We gotta get together for a beer, Wally!

My fate keeps getting in the way of my destiny.

Eight-ball!?!? That’s a game for girls. Everyone knows that nine ball is the way to go for real sport.

But Wally love, since you did have that lap dance and admitted to a woodie, I guess you’re all right. :slight_smile:

–Grace (who has also sunk the 9-ball on the break)

Work is fine for killin’ time, but it’s a shaky way to make a living.

Grace, I was playing with klutzes. What are you gonna do?

Droll, yeah, I think that’s the place allright.

There were about 12 customers in the the place, but I didn’t see a band stage.

So you put the olf ticker to a test. How long is the warranty?

WallyM7 remarked:

Pretty much my take on it.

Nice to know you’re up and about and scaring ladies outside the hospital. :wink:

SwimmingRiddles, don’t know how to explain it. Someone needs to explain it to me. (Gross warning). The point seems to be to have a naked woman grind around in your face, and if you’re really lucky you cum your pants. Uh, yeah, that’s my idea of a good time - driving home with sticky undies. Or you just get stiff and depressed. I don’t need to go to a strip bar for that. Of course maybe it makes more sense if you’re drunk.

Sorry to burst your urban legend bubble, SaxFace, but you might want to read up on the rules.

Sala, can’t you count?!? I said NO camels! That’s FIVE camels!

Oh my heck! HE spoke to me. Wally spoke to me! It’s like a dream come true. I have been graced with Wally’s attention even if was only for a moment. I’m never going wash this monitor ever again.

Work is fine for killin’ time, but it’s a shaky way to make a living.