It’s a lot to cram into one post, I know.
The more I go to Athens, Georgia the older I feel. I think the next time – if there ever is one – I’m going to feel like I should practically be in a nursing home. Maybe that’s a good reason to not have anymore next times in Athens. But, hey, we had a good time – I’m glad we went- but like eating pizza (like today) it was good but I don’t want to eat it again for a very long time. That’s Athens for you.
Saturday, Benjii came over to dog sit and we left for Athens. The rain had let up and it turned out to be a nice drive out stopping at Charlie’s favorite store – Northern Tool and Equipment – on the way. Yes, she found about 10k worth of stuff she wants from there. (Who said anything about a way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach – with Charlie it’s a new compressor for her power washer or a Sthl tree saw). Once we pulled in to Athens we found our hotel right away. Her bro had booked us into the Georgia Gameday Center – which, turned out to be a one bedroom condo. It was PHAT! That was the nicest part of the trip was the condo we stayed. Once we checked in and took pictures of the room we left to go have a drink. I had texted my friends Stacy and Nikki when we pulled in to ask where a good place for a drink and a bite to eat and one of the places they suggested was Trappeze Pub. We pulled up some stools and ordered a couple of Unknown Pregame beers (yes, everything in this town has something to do with some game somewhere – it just so happened there were a bunch of folk from Kentucky in town because of the UGA/Kentucky basketball game – all that way to watch basketball…….must not be much going on in Kentucky……ok, shut up, Lanie)
After drinking our PRE-UGA/Kentucky gameday beer (to go with our hotel named Gameday, of course) we decided to go get PRE-game tacos. We started walking up Clayton street and finally found Bulldog tacos – kidding – Taqueria Tsunami where we had some great tacos and I had some great margaritas. One thing about Athens is that the drinks are good and cheap. Well margaritas were $6 each with fresh lime juice and not that sickly sweet limeaid mixer they typically use in margaritas. After a satisfying dinner we headed for the hotel to freshen up before going to the 40 Watt Club. For some reason we decided after the hotel to go ahead and get in line at the venue an hour before the show. I don’t know why we thought that was a good idea because when they let us in an hour before the show (8) there was hardly anyone in there anyway. While we were in line outside waiting to get in we started talking to the guys in line in front of us. One guy was in a wheelchair and had driven down from (scary coincidence) Indiana (where I’m from) and had been to the Truckers show Thursday and Friday, too. We said that he must really like them and he said he’d seen them like (I heard 17, Charlie heard 70- not sure which one I believe but you get the gist) times.
You really don’t want to know what I’m thinking at this point.
Another guy in front of us said he was from our neighborhood – we couldn’t believe that – right up the street from where we live. I was starting to think it was all a strange coincidence and was really hoping we could go inside soon because I was starting to tire of the conversation outside. I was thinking, I really am tired of talking to random men. I hope to get away from talking to random men –
WRONG. Such was the story of our LIFE that night.
Once we went inside both those random men melted away into the crowd. We stood at the bar and ordered drinks. The bartender was very nice and we struck up a conversation with him and I was starting to realize that Charlie and I were probably only 2 of 5 women in the whole club. I started looking around and it was like we just got dropped off into Portland Oregon with long bearded men wearing grungy trucker hats, nerdy glasses and flannel shirts that were almost too short to tuck in. It was the hippy log splitting crowd – although I bet most of those men’s hands were as soft as my own. So, the warm up band, Hernies (and after listening to them I’m sure it was short for Screaming Hernias) wasn’t coming on until 9. We had several drinks in the meantime and Hernia -er – Hernies didn’t actually come on until 9:30. More grungy men filed in and a really drunk guy stationed himself next to us at the bar. This guy was probably the only non-grunge guy in there. Any minute he looked like he was either going to fall over or puke. Charlie and I moved away but at some point still couldn’t escape this guys hands. At one point he ran his arm down Charlie’s back and she just turned and looked at him and moved off. I said, “Let’s move down more.” Then, some other random man came over to talk to us – named Steve. Steve spied my tshirt with a motorcycle on it and asked if we rode.
I have learned most times when people as if you ride it’s just a segue into them telling you their whole life history of riding and showing you 1,000 pictures of their motorcycle on their iPhone before you even have a chance to say what you ride. Which happened. I was hoping to put Steve in between myself and the drunk, hand-sy guy next to me as I switched places with Charlie and now I was getting fondled. No such luck because after showing us the 945th pic of his Harley he hugged us and took off. Next, we started a conversation this some really big guy who looked like Grizzly Adams in a Green Bay hat. I was thinking, If this doesn’t scare this drunk guy off then I don’t know what will. He did disappear momentarily but was back by the time Grizzly was gone. Next, we started hearing this sound from the stage. It was a loud, wambah, wambah, wambah that went on FOREVER. I was like, Is anyone finally going to sing around here, or are we going to be trapped here all night with the drunk pervert and looking at 1,000 more Harley pictures?
I shouted to Charlie over the WAMBAH, WAMBAH, WAMBAH that we were probably going to have to move as I didn’t know how much longer I was going to take this guy touching me without putting my boot in his @ss. We slid down the bar further and another random guy came up and started shouting to us. His name was Jeff. We probably shouted at him the longest. The opening band finally started singing over the WAMBAH and they sounded like the Beatles on an acid trip. I had necessarily switched to the hard stuff and ordered another Jack and Coke wishing I’d worn earplugs – especially after talking to another random guy who said he came up from Valdosta, Georgia and followed the Truckers, loves them and that they are really Eff-ing loud. But, from the screaming coming from the stage I wondered if he meant the warm up band instead. By the time the Truckers did come on stage we were
drunk immersed in a conversation with Jeff who had managed to scare off the drunk guy for us and was hugging us both and I had decided he was the lessor of the several random guy evils. Or maybe I was just deaf and drunk by then and didn’t care. By the time we left the club our ears were ringing and I was ready to be away from random men and go meet our friends, Stacy and Nikki.
We no more walked out of the club and texted our friends to meet up with them when another random Steve came up and started walking with us. I was like, Really? WTF! I felt like that poor cat that always ran from Pepe Le Pew. We told him we were headed out to meet some friends and he said he was walking that way anyway. Honestly, if he hadn’t been so young I would have been worried. By this time there were several people out walking around – in fact, it was getting Marti Gras-ish and we witnessed our first public puking of the night before ducking behind a car and ditching that guy. When we walked into the club to meet our friends I’d never seen so many young drunk kids in my life. Stacy came up and shouted that the friend of theirs that had rented out the place for her birthday had been rushed to the hospital an hour earlier from alcohol poisoning. She pointed to the girls gf who was continuing to party on in her place. Once Charlie and I stole a tshirt off the wall for a memento we excused ourselves and said we had to get back.
Walking back to the hotel there were even more people out – skimpy dressed, young women and men and yet more of them vomiting in the gutters. It was a total drunk fest. I hadn’t seen anything like this since – well, the last UGA game I went to in 1995. And, yet again we bumped into Steve and before he could say anything we just started running to the hotel because we’d had enough. I kept thinking we were running away from young, drunk zombies who were going to eat our faces off. We made it to our nice room, split our subway sandwich and passed out.
The next day we were going to go out to eat breakfast somewhere but we were both ready to get the hell out of dodge. We came back and ate pizza with the dogs – which, was fine with me. It was a fun weekend but I don’t think we’ll be going to Athens again anytime soon.