or Why One-Man Pub Crawls are a Bad Idea
About 8 years ago, when I was living in Philadelphia, things hardly ever got boring. There was always something to do. Perhaps this is why I couldn't really hold a job for the first four years or so that I was there. It seemed like there was always way better things to be doing than working on anything. This also applied to studying and homework. Granted I pulled off grades mediocre enough not to be asked to leave, but that's not saying much.
I only became able to keep a job and get motivated to finish school after two things happened. First, my parents stopped paying my rent. Yes, I know its sad, and I actually used to lie to people about it (if your reading, sorry); but Mommy and Daddy payed their 21-year-old man-child's rent for him. Second, I met my wife, who (A) didn't find my parents paying my rent to be much of a turn-on, and (B) would become preggers with my son. Well, let's just say I need pressure to get motivated.
Well, now I am going to tell you a story about before I had my shit together . I was working at Starbuck's on 4th and South St in the Summer of 2006. Not for long mind you, about 1 month. (I got fired about two weeks after this story.) My roommates were in Europe, I was holding down the fort in South Philly, somewhere by Pat's and Geno's.
Anyway, I got off work at about 7:00pm and decided to hit up a few bars, after all it was payday and an empty apartment quite honestly sucks 80% of the time. So, I started off across the street from my place of employment, had a beer and a shot of whiskey. Then, feeling the urge to be somewhere a little less in the eye of my employer, I walked about four blocks and started a personal pub crawl at the upper end of South Street, where the bars start. It was a good time, nothing too out of hand at first. Also, being as I was going into all of these bars on my lonesome, I didn't want to stay in any very long.
I tried to stick to a "one drink done in a blink" mantra. I felt awkward about bar-hopping alone in daylight, also I wasn't smooth, so it was a quiet and contemplative pub crawl. Well, there is a lot of bars on that street. I stopped at most of them.
Suddenly, I realized it was dark. Very dark. I pulled out my phone to get a handle on the time. Unfortunately, my eyes weren't working and for some reason there were three screens staring back at me, all of them written in what looked to be some illegible form of Vietnamese. Darn. Although it was a weeknight, it was very dead. It had to be late. Everything looked to be closed or in some form of closing. If you are unfamiliar with South street, it is a pretty happening place. Things don't really shut down there until about 2 in the morning, regardless of the day of the week. I suddenly realized that I was holding a pint glass from the last bar I was in. Ooops. Hopefully they have extras.
I walked to the corner, still holding the drink in my hand, and stared up at the street sign to get a handle on which way was home. To say the street sign was hard to read would be an understatement. Between my swaying and trying to light a cigarette it just wasn't clear enough to read. Eventually I got it figured out by closing one eye and opening and closing it slowly. "Sixth" I said aloud, congratulating myself. I figured I could walk straight down till I hit my street and then double back. I got this. Like I've never walked by myself plastered before. Pffftt!!
So, I stumbled and weaved back and forth working my way back toward home, in need of rest and water. The pub crawl had snuck up on me. In retrospect, it now seemed like a good idea to have eaten dinner. I finished the last of my drink and set the pint glass down on someone's stoop, then knocked it over, shattering it on the stoop instead. "Sorry," I shouted, walking away.
A couple of minutes after my half-hearted apology I started to hear an echo. Not loud, pleasantly soft. Must be my feet, i thought. Looking down at my feet, I realized I was wearing Birkenstocks, not the type of shoe to make an echo really. This sounded a lot more like high heels. The sound was much louder now, and much more rhythmic, whatever was making that noise was quickly gaining on me.
Being as heels are generally worn by women, I wasn't particularly alarmed. After all, perhaps in my relaxed and drunken state I had made a real impression on some girl, and she was now running to catch up with me. Weirder things could happen, right?
The pounding of the high heels was slowing down now, she must be approaching me. Wouldn't want to look creepy now, would we? Running up on sloppy useless drunks with rent-paying deficiencies is not in this year. Suddenly the loud high heel popped into my peripheral vision. I had somewhat snapped out of my sloppy state, trying to keep my inebriated guard up. Now a leg was in my peripheral. A very chunky, very dark and fish-netted leg. Ohh dear. A big gal, huh?
Suddenly, I felt the urge to quicken my pace. Something was off, fear was rearing its head. Before I had a chance to see my high-heeled predator, I knew I was doomed. Memories of the broken glass on the stoop made a lump form in my throat.
"Lookin for a date?" a throaty voice questioned. Tranny. I knew it. I didn't even have to look. Although trannies ARE extremely entertaining to look at, and not very threatening either. "No, thank you." I replied. It moved in closer, and started throwing a big sweaty intimidating arm around my neck. I moved out of reach, quickly, stumbling into a car but still walking quickly. "Oh, calm down baby. I ain't hurtin ya!" remarked the drag queen. It's tone of voice sounded hurt and offended. That's the last thing I need, an emotionally imbalanced queen following me home.
I ventured a look, and immediately wished I hadn't. It was hideous. He was black, with a blond wig, a smattering of facial hair, no noticeable makeup, and wearing sunglasses at two in the morning. Fabulous. On his bosom, which was very well endowed, he wore a gold rhinestone tube top. The skirt was extremely short and patent-leather. Yikes. One thing I was thankful for was that, my shock level had rendered me completely sober for the time being.
Approaching a street sign, I noticed I was almost home. Good. I started feeling for my keys, half to get them ready, half to use as a potential weapon in case this one wanted to rape me. "Where we goin?" my prospective date said, trying to sound smooth. A flutter of pity arose. He is awkward too. Worse yet, he was under the illusion that I wanted to play, or that I was drunk enough to convince. My heart was racing. What if he follows me to my door. The idea of turning my back on this character was turning my guts to lava.
I could see my front door up the street. I prayed for it to be unlocked and ajar so I could sneak in quickly. It wouldn't be. I was basically at a run by how long and frantic my my strides had become. I was ready to vomit from the excitement. Before I knew it I was up on my stoop, jamming the key in the lock, meanwhile not taking my eyes off the threatening transvestite. I imagined that this was how girls feel a lot of the time. The tranny was at the bottom of my stoop, looking up at me, a devious cheshire cat grin from ear-to-ear. He is going to rape me. Damn me for getting so drunk. The key turned in the lock, it was unlocked. I was ready to slam a Birkenstock-ed foot into his jugular if he moved onto the first step. I got behind the screen door, closing it. Just then, it happened....
"AHHH, WELL, FUCK YOU THEN BABY!!!!" he yelled in an almost good-hearted manner, while he simultaneously pulled up his patent-leather skirt to expose what was underneath it, sans underwear. He held his skirt up for what seemed like an eternity, gyrating at me while grunting. I recoiled in horror, and yelled a long stream of curses, slamming my door and locking all four pad locks.
I spent the next hour curled up in a ball, trying to find a happy place. The next morning I vowed never to get drunk and walk home alone in Philly again. I didn't for about two weeks. I have since moved away from Philadelphia, not for fear of a repeat of that incident. I miss how much fun it was there, and the unpredictability of it, however there are just some things I guess you will never miss.
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