I went with a friend to The Dime last Saturday night because she is new in town and I feel like the Dime-Canter’s migration is a necessary step in the Angelino transformation. I rarely go to the Dime anymore, but my girlfriend and I used to like checking out the DJs and drinking reasonably stiff drinks for an hour before getting knee deep in a Matt’s Special at Canter’s.
We had to wait a few minutes to get in, but I had already gone a few rounds with my reserve of Yamazaki and some Suntory scotch that I tried at the Four Seasons earlier for a drink with an old co-worker. Basically, I had no problem standing outside for five minutes and building my character. That’s right, a short wait builds character. A long wait usually means you are at a really pretentious bar. If you happen to be reading this while waiting in a really long line at a dumb bar, ask the bouncer to borrow his pen from his clipboard and jam it into your eye. Spend the rest of the night at the hospital, equally painful but unlike at the bar, any inebriating cocktails they give you will be covered by insurance.
So we chat with the bouncer for a hot moment and he’s pretty cool, a refreshing change from what goes on at some of the other bars with the same owner. We get inside and it is typically packed, but it is a nice wave of nostalgia. I haven’t been in a long time, but I remember coming when I lived a few blocks away. The familiar red lighting and totally ADD song switching. We share a booth with total strangers and get into some whiskey.
Then I saw it. There’s a big dude sitting with his girlfriend at the bar, minding his own business. Some really douchy kid with super-spiked hair and a v-neck showing off his attempt to look like he is roiding bumps into the guy’s feet. The guy at the bar is polite enough, but Incredible Hulk meets Lance Bass decides he needs to throw out a move I like to call the “10th Grade Staredown”. And he does. It is on.
The guy at the bar seems content to let it go. I immediately respect him because I am not involved, but want to punch this Backstreet Boy right in the teeth-whitening trays. Pre-1998 Justin Timberlake will not back down. There seems to be no reason for this standoff. But I love it. I am tapping my friend on the shoulder to get her to pay attention. Now we’re watching a scene from Inglorious Douchebags. It’s exciting.
The guy at the bar decides to stand up now, because as I said, it’s on. Watching this guy stand up was like watching the Mack Truck turn into Optimus Prime. The guy took forever to stand up, mostly because he had to be about 6 foot 7. He looked like Julius Peppers, dude. Pre-Jessica Simpson Nick Lachey had picked the wrong sitting down guy to assert his “dominance” over.
I started laughing because this was awesome. Peppers is under control and seems to talk quietly to 98 Degrees for a moment, never flustered. I have no idea what they said, but by the end of it, estrogen hair gel man is literally shaking Lawrence Taylor’s hand and really glad to be alive. I’m sure his vodka Red Bull was the best tasting one of his life, because he was so glad to still have a face to drink it with.
Me? I just minded my own business. I’m a lover. Not a douchebag.