Last week—Thursday to be exact—I attended a show at my favorite bar/venue, The Jinx. My former band, Conquer/Devour, was on the bill, along with Burnt Books and Whores. It was quite a show. All three bands sounded pretty great. Whores absolutely killed it. I’m glad I finally saw them live. If you get a chance to see them, do it. You won’t regret it.
Conquer/Devour features Athon from Black Tusk, David Williams (who got hit by the same bullet that put me in a chair), John Collenberger (my roommate), and Wes Davis (amp tech/guitarist). A very promising young band (in band years. Old bastards IRL).
After chatting with a few friends at the end of the night, John and I started making our way back to my van. It was early in the morning. 3 a.m. We happened to be walking parallel with two highly inebriated young men. They were a bit ahead of us. It didn’t take long for us to catch up to their slow, wobbling pace. One guy lost his footing (tripped himself) and fell all over my legs, almost hitting the ground (my legs broke his fall). And that is when things got interesting.
“There’s traffic on the sidewalk,” I said in a polite manner.
It took a moment for the guy to register the fact that I was in a wheelchair.
“Well, just keep on rolling your roll!,” he responded, drunkenly and with attitude.
I was sober, but tired and a little agitated.
“I will keep rolling my roll, motherfucker.” I said pretty matter-of-factly.
Hearing that, his dumb buddy chimed in with a high-pitched, girly laugh. I mocked him immediately, turned my chair around to look at his face. They both stopped dead in their tracks. My mocking laugh still mockingly laughing.
“You know, I can still kick your ass from this chair.” I said flatly.
John looked at me, thinking I was going to get him hit in the face. The two drunks looked at me like I was nuts, thinking they were going to get hit in the face. I turned and started moving forward. I made it a few feet and heard the guys still talking shit. I turned back again.
Me: “Okay, let’s do this.”
Fallen Idiot: “Hrmfduh.”
Dumb Buddy: “Let’s do this?” Girl-squeak.
I take my hand out of my pocket.
Fallen Idiot is walking toward me at this point. Walks past, sits on a ledge by a window, flips his phone open as if he is answering a call. His phone did not ring or ding.
Dumb Buddy: “Maaaaaan… he’s just drunk.”
Me: “Yeah, and what’s your excuse?”
Fallen Idiot: …
Dumb Buddy: …
Me: “You guys have a good night. Hope you don’t get pulled over.”
John and I turned again. This time we made it to the van. I don’t know where the two guys went. After all this fun, the van was dead. Called Wes. He ran down the block, literally. We eventually got the van started and made it home. John was happy he didn’t have to hit anyone (or get hit himself). I was happy those two guys thought I was a freaking maniac. My apologies, John.
When life hands you lemons…
… make them feel like complete assholes.