Beer pong made the most sense as a pre-drinking game and I was feeling pretty good about my chances. I'd had a little practice within the last couple of months. The team of Femi and myself had no way of knowing what we were in for. Kevin and Ahbi were essentially professional beer pong players and wiped the floor with us. After having lost about 3-4 games in a row, I was there as a witness to one of the greatest trick shots in the history of the game. Ahbi took careful aim and threw one the wall, into the cup! Femi and I managed to win the last game, after we hit a stretch of some hot shooting, to gain a little redemption. I blame Femi for our lack of success, because it seemed like he was more interested in ironing his shirt. After some mandatory vodka shots, we were on our way.
We had done just about as good of a job preparing as we could have done. Including a last second addition to the guest list, which reduced our cover charge from $20 to $5. The party was to take place at Faces Night Club. The only three things we knew going in were that Faces rated as a 5 star night club, we'd be meeting up with our new friends from the rideshare (Nouva and Cruz), and most importantly an NFL player was going to be in the building. We arrived around 11:30, and upon inspection of the layout, it was obvious this would be a great place to party. The only problem being that the place was pretty much empty, both upstairs and down.
We started out on the upstairs level, because there were literally zero people downstairs. Like most people, I'm comfortable on dance floors that already have people dancing on them. A select few have had the privilege of witnessing me get out there in solo situations. Let's just say that this was a night where nothing could hold me back.
This wasn't exactly what we had expected out of a 5 star night club in Toronto. Little did we know the party was just about to get started. It wasn't long before Nouva and Cruz showed up, and there was finally some excitement on the dance floor. Nouva introduced us to some of his friends. Without even knowing it, due to the loud music, I'd shaken hands with one of the newest members of the Miami Dolphins.
From there Ahbi, Femi and I seemed a little more willing to approach girls on the floor. I struck out on my one attempt at conversation. A girl with a balloon tied to her belt loop was dancing by herself and looked like she could use some company. When I asked her about the balloon, she replied that the information was confidential. Without wasting any more words, I got back to grooving on the dance floor. To me, it seemed like the social aspect of this dance floor was going to be tough nut to crack, because of that, and other less funny encounters.
We ended up back downstairs again to buy drinks at the bar. The place was progressively filling up and finally living up to its 5 star billing. We decided to give the dance floor on this level a try. Instantly we found the perfect girl to dance with. The tone was set with the music as the song Move Bitch by Ludacris started pumping. Femi and I moved over to dance with a group of girls and one of them in particular had a surprise for us. For the sake of the story we'll call her The Ripper. As the song was playing The Ripper approached me, and planted the palm of her hand directly on my forehead. When the lyric, "Move!" was spoken, she shoved my head back with force. Femi got the same treatment. We must have been in a trance, because we went back for more. Once again we got palm-to-forehead shoved.
Thankfully for us the song finally changed, and the The Ripper didn't seem to mind that we were still around. She was even suggesting that we danced with her friends. She was dancing with Femi and I was a keen observer to this. It looked like she was digging her fingers into his shirt between the buttons near his collar. That was when The Rip occurred. Buttons were flying everywhere and I had a hard time staying on my feet controlling my laughter. I told The Ripper that Femi had just bought that shirt earlier in the day. She instantly told her friends, and we were all laughing. The ice had finally been broken. I took advantage of the opportunity and danced with The Ripper for a little while. She must have thought I was getting a little too attached, because it wasn't long before she turned around, and claimed that she was a lesbian.
After that mini-adventure, it was time to return upstairs to where Nouva, Cruz and the NFL party was going on. There was just one obstacle. A gigantic bouncer was on the stairs. After asking him how we could get upstairs he responded with the classic line, "Cash talks, jokers walk". I was furious, but also determined to return upstairs to the party. I rounded up Femi and Ahbi with hopes of only having to pay one bribe for all of us.
Meanwhile, a fight had broken out somewhere near the front door, and an amazing opportunity presented itself. The bouncer from there stairs had to leave his post, and I excitedly hurried my way over there. Instead of quietly making my way up the stairs like everyone else, I decided to make a scene. I climbed up about 3 steps up and started helicoptering my right arm, screaming "Let's go! Everyone upstairs!" It wasn't long before I was yanked off the stairs, and dragged into a back stairwell in a tight headlock. This guy was crazy. He refused to let go of his grip on my head, despite the fact that I was clearly not resisting. The boss gave the order to throw me out the back. The bouncer decided the best way to start that action would be by pushing me off the flight of stairs. He was instantly on me once again and was looking for any excuse to do more damage. I quietly allowed myself to be forced out into the back alley.
At this point I was thinking that I really hadn't done anything worth getting kicked out. Not to mention, I was furious at the abuse I'd suffered, for absolutely no reason. I made my way around to the front of the club, and tried to calmly explain the situation. By this point Femi and Ahbi had caught wind of what had happened. They joined me outside. Coincidentally, The Ripper and her friends were also outside. We couldn't miss an opportunity to argue the legitimacy of her lesbianism. After a careful debate she was clearly not going to pull off the charade any longer. She ended up leaving us, yelling "I love the sausage! I love the sausage!" That was comforting.
After a long enough wait, it became obvious that the outside staff didn't seem to care that their co-worker was a piece of shit. On my way out I had another profanity laced tirade directed at the night club and everyone who worked in it. So ended the NFL party!
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