When the PrissyBitch and I have something to celebrate, we like to do it not-in-style. Instead we like to find a bunch of shitty dive-bars in close proximity to each other where we can try and relive our Los Banos glory days. We never meet anyone as awesome as Raul or Gonzo — and no one has their own bell like Anthony — but we usually manage to meet some real weirdos and this time was no different. The only place that’s an easy cab ride from her house, and has a a cluster of bars for us to frequent is Fairfield Avenue in Bridgeport, which is hilarious for its mix of college kids and old alcoholics…and us.
We decided that on this trip, though, we would try and visit the bars we hadn’t hit the last time around. We started out at Matty’s Corner, which was only remarkable in that it had a number of gross middle-aged couples straight-up making out, a sign boasting the sale of “crackhead lighters” for 50 cents, and a black cowboy — complete with a hat and boots. We went through a number of names for him. I liked Ennis Del Mar, but we finally went with PrissyBitch’s suggestion of Hennessey. He. Was. Awesome.
Matty’s only kept us entertained through two beers. As we set out down the street again, we stumbled upon Little Joe’s Cafe, where we had previously discovered free EROTIC PHOTO HUNT! We were disappointed to find that it was no longer free but that didn’t keep us from beating the high score on the “hunks” edition. The thing about playing the “babes” edition is that it attracts gross dudes (especially now that they seem to have gotten really graphic and show lots of money shots). One of theses dudes was standing behind us and reached out to play the game with us, scaring me so much I jumped and yelled, “Sweet Christ!” He went away after that. We resorted to “Erotic Photo Match” and “Erotic Mystery Phraze” which is always good for a hilarious picture. Once it was clear we’d lost our mojo — and that it was 12:38 and we’d only been to two bars — we headed down to The Field.
The Field isn’t really a dive bar. It’s actually quite nice, which explains why the crowd is much younger and less creepy. The dining room seemed to have been turned into a dance club and there were about four drunk girls actually dancing. PrissyBitch and I took up residence at the far end of the bar where there were seats and a hot guy accompanied by some strangely nerdy guys. We wanted to get to the bottom of that situation, but then we came up with THE GREATEST IDEA WE’VE EVER HAD!
Behind the bar at The Field was a cute little Irish bartender who was more than happy to go along with our diabolical plan to Ice a complete stranger. Our adorable Irish bartender was so game he didn’t make us pay for the Smirnoff atrocity, and took it upon himself to pick the dude to Ice. He did a good job of it too. He explained that he picked the poor soul because he was with four of his buddies and knew he wouldn’t open himself to ridicule by refusing the Ice. Like a good sport, the kid took the Ice, got down on one knee while his friends laughed and the PrissyBitch and I cheered. It was pure awesomeness.
We went back to minding our own business for awhile but when the PrissyBitch headed off to the bathroom it left me vulnerable to being chatted up by a seriously drunk guy named Pete, who told me there was a rumor going around the bar that I was married. Not since Los Banos have the PrissyBitch and I created so much of a stir that we actually inspired rumors. Last time we were Kennedys, and this time I was married. I much prefer the Los Banos rumors. I showed him my hands and told him that these were nasty lies that were being spread about me. (I blame the PB: I think her ring was so blinding from across the bar that onlookers must have thought there was more than one ring.) By the time she got back Pete was telling me how he just had deja vous about something I said, unfortunately I don’t remember what I said. I’m sure it was fascinating. Then, before wandering off just as quickly as he’d appeared, Pete told me I was beautiful. Gotta love a guy so drunk he can’t see straight complementing you. Really boosts the self-esteem.
After Pete was gone we were visited by a guy named Mike — who seemed quite sober — and his shit-faced friend, ridiculously named Connor. Connor had that beguiling combination of black hair and blue eyes that is irresistible about 75% of the time, but he took preppy a bit too far. He looked like he may have actually come straight from his prep school, still in uniform. He kept leaning on the back of my chair to stay upright, and while the PrissyBitch was telling Mike about her pool hustling skills and how she could dominate Connor on a pool table — if for no other reason than she could stand up straight — Connor did the unthinkable. He reached out and put his hand in my hair, pushing it all forward over my face…and then continued to leave his hand on top of my head just playing with my hair.
Unwelcome touching from a stranger usually results in me slapping said stranger, but I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe, and yet no one else seemed to be paying attention… I was afraid there would be no proof that any of this had happened so I discreetly reached over and tapped the PrissyBitch on her hand repeatedly until she looked at me. I must have been quite a site, laughing and having my hair manhandled by a preppy who was so drunk he couldn’t stand or form a sentence — whose name just so happens to be a running joke in my life. Like any good friend would do, Prissy Bitch started laughing at me and asked the preppy why he was touching my hair. That seemed to be enough to make him stop.
It was well past last call by this time and I was completely incapable of finishing the Stella Artois I had ordered against my better judgement. I don’t really like it, and I had no room left for it. The Prissy Bitch wanted the glasses though so she finished mine as well as hers, I tucked one in my coat and she put the other in her purse. I then made the poor choice of going to the bathroom before we left. I was doing fine until I stood up and the glass fell out the bottom of my coat and smashed all over the bathroom floor. PB was highly disappointed…but that didn’t stop her from repeatedly talking about vagina maintenance while we were in the cab on the way home.
Drink Prices: 3
Menu: 0 (someone seemed to be smoking a cigarette in the kitchen)
Erotic Photo Hunt: 0
Likelihood of Waking Up with a Stranger: 1
Total Score: 10
Drink Prices: 3
Erotic Photo Hunt: 0
Likelihood of Waking Up with a Stranger: 4
Total Score: 21