Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Always have your Wing Pilot

I am broke today because of last Wednesday.

More specifically the absence of a wing pilot when I flew into club Chit Chat.

Normally when I head out I got some one with me, everybody does, it strength in numbers, witnesses to disasters, or designated driver or the dude with bail money.

In my case it's keep this dude in line before he goes from predator to prey.

I'll explain, now because of my work hours I got free time on my hands during the week.

There are only a couple of my road dogs who have the same free time that I do to play around in the streets with me.

Earlier that day though I did not feel like going any where so no plans were made with anyone.

But being a night owl I started to go stir crazy around 10 pm.

So I decided to go solo to the club, Wednesday at Chit Chats is 3 dollar drink night, all night.

I'm not talking the cheap stuff either, every thing, top shelf. Patron, Hen, Corona, Hien, Grey Goose, Absolute, a drunkards wet dream.

Women are free so the place is always packed, with girls looking like video vixens.

Now for the player on a budget this is Heaven, if your the type that brings sand to the beach than you don't have to worry about the door charge for the lady just the 5 to get your self in, the drinks are 3 so you know your going to catch a decent buzz.

And of course your going to buy every women with a big butt and a smile a drink, hell after a couple of long islands she could be flat as a plank and missing teeth your still going to buy her drinks just on GP and ego.

It's the working man's night to act like baller.

The smart lady brings enough money to get her started and waits, trust me eventually some one is going to buy you a drink.

I slide in around 1130 while the crowd is packing in and make my way to the one pool table to challenge the local hustlers, who use me as there opportunity to practice trick shots.

Normally when I go there I avoid the table because you have to wait for ever to get next and besides I am there to talk smack with the fellas.

But since I am solo I am feeling like the odd man out so I spend more time playing pool than chatting it up.

Around the 5Th game I am thoroughly buzzed out of my mind so I make my way to the bar for a bottle of water to get my mind right, the place is so pack that it like a slow swim through a sea of delicious chocolate.

Every 2 steps I am apologizing to some lady for brushing her butt, (you know damn well I ain't really sorry about it).

Before I get just to the bar though I bump into some woman and she winds up spilling her drink because of it.

I say my bad and offer her to buy another one, and that's were thing get fuzzy, while were at the bar her friend slides up and ask if I'll buy her one too.

I didn't even see them together but hey it's 3 dollar drink night so it's on.

Now I cant exactly recall what they look like all I remember in that dark ass club is one was light skin slim with wavy hair and the one whose drink I spilled was dark skin thick and had braids.

But I know they know what I look like because I wind up paying for a picture with all three of us one on one side the other on the other side.

And that pisses me off, I don't do pics because I don't like leaving evidence that I was there, but I am twisted so I'm in a good mood.

Next thing I know were trying to find some where to sit but of course there is no where to go except of course the VIP lounge which no one really uses because every one has enough sense to know it's a rip off.

I am a gentleman of leisure, connoisseur of fine women and conversation, flirt master supreme, and let me get my money right and you can add on international playboy to that.

What I am not is a show off, baller or sucker.

But not tonight, tonight I got "use this dumb ass" written all over my face.

So I let these two women lead me right into there where I paid 50 to be the goof ball, to be the center of attraction in the club, in a tacky lounge.

I cant tell you what the conversation was like, hell I don't even remember there names, but I wind up grind dancing alternatively with one woman after the other for every song, (I don't even dance).

While lying on the couch trying to catch my breath another set of ladies that I am pretty sure were cute walk in the lounge on the invite of the two I'm with, through the course of the night I wind up grinding with those two.

Come to find out that one of them is the daughter of the dark skinned lady whose drink I spilled, I back off with the quickness.

But now I'm trying to think, if that's her daughter how the !~@#!#$ old is she?

By this time I spent like 250, I am wasted, surrounded by a few cougars and kittens and all I want to do is go home and sleep, and try to keep whats in me in me, I don't even want to exchange numbers I want sleep.

So I'm while getting up to leave the light skin one starts to break down and cry about something she and her buddy were talking about, what, I don't know, I wasn't paying attention but she goes running off and her friend refuses to go after her.

I said Ill go check on her but instead I walk out the joint and head on out to home.

I wake up the next day with a severe hang over, broke, with some lady running around with a picture of me.

This is what happens when you don't have that partner with sense to pull you back from the edge of the abyss.

Those two could of looked like Serena Williams and Angela Basset which would have caused me to shoot my self for not staying or Blacula and Frankenstein for which I would of shot my self for staying.

I haven't been that out of it since I was kid.

But again that is what the wing pilot is for to prevent things like this.