Superheroes Part I
Disclaimer: Before I tell this story, I want to make it perfectly clear that fighting is really stupid, especially for folks in the Armed Forces. Despite having been drunk on almost every continent doing ridiculous shit, I have been in almost no fights (outside the ring) and I have never started them. Fights are for frat guys that are looking to prove they are men. The American Fighting Man has no need for such games. Ok, enough diatribes.
Nick’s Random Thoughts on Parties
John has been my buddy for almost a decade – went to school together, served together, deployed together. So when his brother, who lived overseas at the time, passed his best-man bachelor party duties to me, it was hardly a burden. I immediately issued the WARNO to the dudes that would be attending and began actively planning the event.
Nick’s Rules for Bachelor Parties (and really all parties):
1. Go Big or Go Home.
2. You’re not there to be “cool” – you’re there to have a great fucking time with your friends.
3. It’s about the groom-to-be, not you.
4. Anyone that asks how his “outfit” looks, is no longer allowed to come.
Here comes the Groom…in tights…
You’ve seen a thousand guys out in custom tshirts, 70s clothes, maybe the occasional toga. Have we done that? Sure. But that’s average night out fare – not an event as earth-shattering as one of the boys getting married. We had to go superheroes.
When it’s you and two buddies doing this shit, you can go with pretty standard superhero fare, but we had a baker’s dozen, so as we walked into the Atlanta bar that I selected as our post-Lulu’s pre-game fishbowl stomping grounds for the evening, many patrons were lucky to not only see classics like Superman and Spiderman, but the likes of Aquaman and the Green Lantern. My personal favorite was the groom’s brother-in-law, a great dude and the only non-military guy present, who at 5’5” made an absolutely phenomenal Austin Powers. For my part, I was the yellow Wolverine with complete claw hands. The groom was, of course, the Man of Steel.
Those in our party who had not been out with the “hard core” drunkard sub-group before were self-conscious about looking so ridiculous in a happening Hot-Lanta Club. The inner circle, however, had learned a long time ago that all the stupid shit women normally hate hearing is instantly more charming and funny when you are wearing spandex yellow tights.
Anyway, after the amazement that the bouncers just let thirteen meatstick dudes (other than Austin, everyone benched at least 250) dressed as superheroes into their bar subsided, I jogged over to the bar with Spidey to get our first round of shots and drinks.
A Skewed Sense of Bartending Self…
As I order the round through my mask, the 160 pound, faux-hawk, bleached tips bartender is looking at me with a crazed expression on his face. I, of course, assume it is the yellow tights I am wearing. I was right – but in the exact opposite way than you’d expect.
Bartender to Spidey: Nice fucking outfit, man.
Bartender: You know that’s my gig, right?
Bartender (unbuttoning and pulling back his shirt to reveal the same Spidey costume): I’m the Spiderman around here. Know what I mean?
Nick (incredulous): Dude, we’re here for a bachelor party. He’ll only be Spidey for a night. You get to take over again tomorrow.
Bartender: You’re damn right.
The dude is livid over the fact that we’re out staging him. We would soon find out that the Spidey outfit was this assclown’s standard pickup line and he truly believed that we had purposefully planned this event to outstage him. Yeah, dude…you’re that important to the rest of the world…
Anyway, we grab our vast tray of drinks, forgetting about SpiderTender, and head back out to the fellas. It’s a good crew – everyone present has a good personality and is in reasonable shape – so there are no superheroes without partners on the dance floor. Spidey becomes incredibly skilled at “crawling” up the side of walls and “slinging” web, each time to the accompanying laughter of the bar’s female clientele. We are the life of the party – so much so, in fact, that we are asked to dance on the bar, an honor normally only bestowed upon attractive women in this establishment.
SpiderTender is visibly angry.
Thirteen superheroes hop on the bar. We spend one song up there being clowns. Twelve superheroes respectfully hop off the bar after the song. Funny as we were, no one wants to see guys dancing on bars.
I’m Shaggariffic, Baby!
The International Man of Mystery had a different plan. Two attractive young girls had decided to make an Austin sandwich out of him on top of the bar and, in his already drunken stupor, he decided he would stay there for the rest of the night. Ordinarily, not a big deal. Ordinarily.
As the rest of us danced and drank the night away, Austin was sinking fast. We had developed absurd tolerances to alcohol that Austin was not quite ready for. By about midnight, Austin was swaying dangerously atop his own personal catwalk. When he almost fell off the bar onto SpiderTender I knew he was done for the night
One bouncer – a blonde dude who was about 6’0” and 220 – helped Austin down and started walking him out. Austin was pissed beyond comprehension, explaining that he was Austin Fucking Powers, an international man of mystery, and he could stay if he wanted to. I ran over and told the bouncer I would walk him home, fearful that he was about to get his ass kicked. The bouncer was a consummate professional and helped me by getting under one of Austin’s shoulders. We were walking Austin out with nary a problem from anyone (except the bitching and swearing Austin). Thank God. John’s night would go on. Or so I thought.
Just when I thought everything was under control, Batman comes running over.
Batman (concerned look on his face): What’s going on?
Nick (Wolverine): Austin’s hammered and needs to go home.
Austin: Fuck you, you fucking fucks! I can stay.
Batman: So everything’s cool?
Nick (Wolverine): Yeah man, no worries.
Bouncer: We just need to get your buddy out of here before he hurts himse…
Note: The bouncer never finished his sentence. He never finished it because he was as surprised as Batman and me when SpiderTender leapt over the bar, jumped on Batman’s back, and put him in a rear naked choke.
Under such circumstances ordinary people would have passed out with a shocked look on their face. Not Batman. Like me, Batman had spent most of his life on wrestling and jiu-jitsu mats and in the boxing ring. In a flash, his chin was down, the grip was broken, he spun out of the choke, and stepped into SpiderTender hard, delivering two direct and one partial head butts to his face before the bouncer pulled him off.
SpiderTender’s face exploded and he fell uncontrollably to his knees. I knew instantly that his nose and cheekbone were broken, as the blood spewed from his face. Goddammit!!!
The bouncer looked at me, waiting to see what I was going to do. I put my hands over my head and said, “We just want to leave”. “Ok,” he responded.
He would have let us too, but his friends disagreed.
I will not describe the next few minutes. They did their jobs. We did what we had to do. Not their fault or ours.
No shit, there I was – hands leaning against a glass window at one of the most popular Atlanta nightclubs standing next to twelve other superheroes. The strip is bumper to bumper traffic and as the police search us the catcalls of “Please, let them go!”, “Who’s gonna protect the streets?”, and “come on guys, use your powers!” were more than enough to start us giggling, which rapidly led to an uproar of laughter. This was an absolutely ridiculous situation. The bouncers, pissed off, bruised, and bloody were swearing at us from the door, which just made it funnier.
I was sure we were all going to prison, but when one of the bouncers took a cheap shot at Austin when the cops were turned around, one cop got really pissed off. I took that opportunity to explain the situation with SpiderTender, and also explained to the nice policeman that our friendly neighborhood SpiderTender had been drinking heavily (so illegal for bounce staff). The cop checked him out and found out we were military and that SpiderTender was a crazy drunk asshole and let everyone but Batman go.
As Batman was being placed in the paddy wagon, Austin exclaimed that he was going to bail him out. I told him we were not going to the police station as superheroes and took his drunk ass back to the hotel. Austin told me I was a fucking pussy.
Batman was freed on $500 bail at 3AM.
And Justice for All…
Batman showed up in court in Dress Greens with shoes shined, tabs and badges prominently displayed, affidavits available from many, many, people. SpiderTender did not show up, but the police report citing that he was drunk did. The judge dropped the charges faster than you can say something that you can say really fast.
Copyright of Nick