If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them ... Unless Neither Sound Appealing

I’m kind of a party pooper when it comes to going out on holiday weekends, especially when it comes to Halloween. I hate the pressure of looking for and spending money on a ridiculous costume that you’re going to wear once. My friends always tell me, “It’s your one time of year to be somebody or something else!” And I always answer with, “What’s wrong with being me 365 days a year? I like me and I certainly wouldn’t want to trade being me, even for one night, to be some slutty nurse with my ass hanging out of my dress. ” They frown at this.

I’m also not a fan of crowds and since Halloween tends to draw hordes of drunk, horny, and scantily clad people to San Francisco, I tend to find my tolerance for humanity straddling a very thin line. The mere brush of a shoulder can send me in to an oratorical tirade of cuss words.

You would think by now, knowing how I feel, that I would just sit it out with a glass of wine and a good movie in the comfort of my own home. But no, every year I go through the same moral dilemma: Do I really want to sit at home while everyone is out having fun? What if I miss out on something? What if, by some off chance, this is the year that Halloween turns around for me and I really enjoy myself? Screw it, I’ll go out. Every year this happens and every year I end up kicking myself for making the wrong decision.

We bought tickets to a club called Suede. The doors opened at eight, wherein, the free vodka started flowing, so you know that our entire group was there at eight on the dot. The only reason I showed up that early was so that I could get hammered before everyone started showing up. I thought a preemptive strike using copious amounts of alcohol would be useful in fending off my feelings of disgust and hostility towards the other party goers.

Unfortunately, to my disappointment, I couldn’t get drunk fast enough. I had consumed approximately five vodka sodas and I barely had a buzz. The thought occurred to me that they were really just serving us water and juice served over ice. No wonder the drinks were free.

As the night went on, I became more aware of how sober I was and how abhorrently intoxicated everyone else was. I was kicked, elbowed, punched in the boob and was on the verge of upper cutting the next bitch who “accidentally” spilled her drink on me.

I made a conscious decision that the only way I was going to get through another minute of this freak show was to adopt the mentality of, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” I proceeded to the bar and fought my way to the front. I ordered two shots and another vodka soda, easy on the soda.

While I’m waiting for the bartender to make my drinks, this drunken a-hole starts shouting in my ear, demanding that I pay him attention.