A charm grenade exploded at my feet on Friday. I was assaulted by wit, chivalry, and overall gentlemanly behavior. Twin (also known as Amy) and I went for a drink, to see our bartender friends (C and D) and also pick up the Girl Scout cookies we ordered. (Bartender friend whose daughter sells Girl Scout cookies? Ideal.) We sat at the end of the bar and chatted with an acquaintance. It was a perfectly nice evening at a somewhat quiet dive bar.
After a while, three guys barreled in with a rallying cry of WOOOOO like sorority girls on spring break. Twin and I shared a look, already disappointed by this turn of events. They sat at the bar a few seats away from us. Leaning over, one of them pushed his dirty hair out of his face and shouted, "What are your chicks' names?" (From now on, I'll call that one Casper--and you'll learn why in a moment.) I stared him down, debating which was more important to me--correcting his sentence structure or a diatribe on calling us chicks. "Your. Names?" I spared myself the headache and we told him our names before turning back to our conversation. "Amy." "Amanda." "I'm going to call you Ann Arbor." (That's a city in the mitten, if you're not familiar. It's also not a clever nickname for two girls with A names.) Twin and I shook our heads at each other--no, you won't.
Later, as the unwashed manchildren were busy making fart noises, because obviously that's what adults do when they're in public, our acquaintance suggested that we should order shots. He was correct. As D brought them over, Casper called out, "Hey Ann Arbor, where's mine?" Casper was informed that I do not buy drinks for strange men. He didn't seem too sad, since he continued to make fart noises.
Casper had asked the bartenders to charge his phone, which alerted us to a text message. D looked at it and announced, "Your message says Hey Casper what's the plan? Why do they call you Casper?" Casper came over to his phone, and sadly us, and told us. Are you ready? "Because I have a bleach stain on my dick."
Um. Ok. That's...a lot of information. Twin turned to me and said, "Well my panties are on the floor." We paid our tab and stood to leave. Casper seemed to remember that he hadn't spoken to us in a while. Sometimes it is very annoying to be the only women in the bar. "Hey Ann Arbor. Um...Amy. And...I don't know, I forgot two years ago. It has an A." I said he didn't have to remember it and said my goodbyes. "How old are you?" "Casper, don't ask that question to women you don't know." "No, but I like to guess."
Gotta go. Casper started guessing ages as we walked out. He shouted after us, "Come on, you don't come to this bar to meet Prince Charming!"