Bar Bachelor

Last night, I was laying on the couch watching the Dark Knight. My fiancé had left me curled up in my initiation blanket, while he went to Dirty’s. (It was its last night as a bar on the strip.) I knew homework was calling my name. Not to mention I was suppose to start my New Years Resolution the following morning: go to church. The bars and drinking just weren’t in my cards...

Or so I thought.

About 10:15 p.m., 15 minutes after my fiancé had left, my pledge class sister’s face popped up on my iPhone. I didn’t answer. For the record... I never answer the first time someone calls. I have a phone-call-answering-phobia. I much rather a text or email, and if it has to be a phone call... I insist that the person leave me a message with their intent before I actually return a call. Well, my PC sister leaves a voice mail. She claims I must join her and a few others at the cave and then to the bars. Oh, and it is very rude that I never answered her phone calls... Zing. A pang of guilt enters my soul. I do feel bad that I don’t answer phone calls... but not enough to change my ways apparently.

So, I let 10 minutes pass. I know I don’t want to go out, so I devise a plan. I will explain that I just got out of the shower and I need to do homework and sleep... Church in the morning! With my plan by my side, I return the phone call.

Screams were what answered on the opposite end. Pleads for me to come over and hang out. I tried my trusty plan, but they were having none of it. Turns out PC sister was going to the 11 o’clock service, too! Crap. The lines were as follows: “This is your senior year. You have to live it up. Last semester. Don’t be a loser. If you come, I will go to an earlier service.” Even as I ended the phone call, I was still on the fence on whether I should leave the comfy couch and Heath Ledger.

As I lay there with my Brussels Griffon, Malibu, I mulled over the words and arguments posed. I mean this was my last semester with all my friends here... And I am really not one to be spontaneous... But what would one night hurt? I won’t get drunk, and I can still make it to church tomorrow. No problem.

As I jumped off the couch and tried to salvage my hair... I prayed that the night would be worth it.

My surprise entrance into the Cave was a pretty good kick off. There had been plenty of drinking happening, and they had even found an entertaining game to boot! Family Feud drinking game. Interesting and educating; however, you have to be sober enough to correctly spell responses... This posed a slight problem, but I still give the game 4 out of 5 stars and am currently downloading it for use at the Colvin.

Around 11:45 p.m. we finally got enough energy up to make it over to the bars. Seeing that the time was rather late, we headed straight for Stillwater’s pride: Outlaws. The place was hopping like usual, and good times were definitely being had by all in attendance.

Confession 1: My favorite part of going out to bars is People Watching. This might also be the downfall of my bar experience because I get so distracted by judging and making up stories for the people I see... that I forget to talk and socialize with the people I came with. This is detrimental to having a good time.

Outlaws was made for people watching. The second story is like a personal spying tower. Everyone below is susceptible. They don’t suspect a stalker upstairs watching their every strange, slutty, or creepy move. I realize as I write this that I sound like a freak, but you can’t tell me you’ve never done this at YOUR bar of choice. Honestly, people watching can happen anywhere from on campus to Wal Mart. All you need is a pool of diverse people in any given space. Instant people watching magic.

Now after our stint at Outlaws, we moved to Dirty’s. I, personally, have only been there once before. It was just like the name of the bar inferred-- the place was freaking dirty, thus, I never went back. However, my friends felt need to pay homage to it one last time.

After we finally settled in a booth, I had serious deja vu (As opposed to the minor kind.) of a little TV show known as The Bachelor.

Confession 2: I have been watching this season’s Bachelor. This is my first time to actually watch it, and I must say I am addicted. It is CRAZY! Grown women willingly sign up with 29 other women to pursue some guy who is lower than online dating. He went on a TV show to find “true love”... And the women fell for that act along with a couple million Americans... Myself included.

So the thing I have learned the past few weeks is that face time with Braddles (my nickname for Brad) equals a rose. I think it is horrifyingly, shameless that they fight and vie for Brad’s attention, yet it is necessary if they want to make it to the next week. This ugly truth played out in a real life scenario though... Last night at Dirty’s.

Back to the booth we are sitting at... One of the posse spots a guy she knew from her previous nights at the bars (he was a bartender). He is talking to a couple girls. She decides to break up the little chat and I quote, “Make these girls jealous.” She poofed her hair for extra emphasis, and off she went.

BAM! The Bachelor. Circa Michelle.

Only difference was that she didn’t want always and forever with Mr. Bartender. She just wanted the satisfaction of being hotter than the original girls. Valid point, I suppose. I mean we all want a little reassurance around 1:20 a.m. in a bar named Dirty’s, right? Well, her plan back fired. While she did succeed in making the girls jealous (they threw us all nasty looks afterwards), she ended up being stuck with the guy. He awkwardly hung around until she had to blatantly spell out that it wasn’t working and he could leave. Harsh. But had it been an episode, I’d been hooked and waiting for next week’s show.

Unfortunately for Dirty’s, there would be no next week. As the lights were flipped on at 2 a.m., chants began from the crowd. “One more year... One more year!” and a rousing round of “OOOOO... SSSSS.. UUUU. Cowboys!” rang out.

I left the bars with a sense of pride for the night. My hair was smokey, my eyes as red as the watermelon shots from Outlaws, and I had enough stories for the blog that I was already mentally writing in my mind.

I think it is pretty safe to say I am still 0 for 4 on my New Years Resolution. We didn’t make it to church this morning. I am not going to say last night was epic, but I will admit I didn’t regret getting off the couch and going out.

Moral of the Story: Only so many days left in my senior year... And you just never know what will happen on the Strip.

Stay spontaneous Stillwater.