If you follow along on my blog, then you know that I live in the glory (if we can call it that) of chronic single-hood. So naturally as February 14th rolls around there are ZERO romantic plans. Unless you call Facebook stalking people you hate and eating mini corn dogs romantic. Kidding. I actually do make plans. My cousin, Marissa, and I go out together each year that both of us are single. We are like 8 years strong, minus that one year, the Year of Keith, when he took me to Orchard Green. Anyway, we like to take advantage of the “couple specials" and take ourselves out for a nice night. We dress up a little and buy the good drinks and eat the fancy foods. We evaluated a few options for this year but ultimately we settled in on one of our favorite places, Red’s. We like dark beers, porters, stouts, wines, mixers, and rum. Red’s has all of that and a menu that is not typical pub food. so when we saw their special advertised, we went for it.
Marissa called ahead and put us on the list as we anticipated a packed joint. To my surprise, it was pleasantly quiet and parking was plentiful. We sat at a table bar-side and started with a drink. (First drink, other than water and an occasional milk, that I have had in a month.) As we sat there discussing the special vs the menu options, we took note of a boisterous lady with two men who’s hot fresh food just sat in front of her. She was the friendly “regular” type that seemed to know everyone and talked to them all. She mingled the restaurant. Including a couple attempts to talk to us. We watched other couples come in and still others go. The wait staff was working hard and running around all over. They were doing a fantastic job of helping each other out and making sure everyone was served and happy. At some point in the night we also took note of an older woman sitting in the booth to the corner of us. With dramatic, uncoordinated movements she scooted herself to the edge of the booth’s seat. We had told each other how wasted she seemed. Watched her attempt to stand. She never was able to get a foot flat on the floor and her butt up off the booth at the same time. Eventually her food came and we agreed that she needed to sit and eat to soak up whatever she had to drink.
We sat there continuing our conversation about whatever it was we talked about, while desperately trying to not watch the wasted woman. But much like watching a train wreck, this train was barreling through, horn honking and lights flashing! She used two hands to pick up a piece of her flatbread, and rather than moving the pizza to her mouth, she held it away and attempted to bring her mouth to it. Of course as she moved forward with her head, her hands moved forward too, moving the pizza. So the pizza was essentially always the same distance away. Eventaully she giraffed it. She stuck her tongue out as far as she could and wiggled it til she made contact.
Marissa and I continued our fancy meal. We took occasional glances over to the wasted woman. Watched her sloppily shove the pizza into her mouth and sway in a circular motion with her upper body. Watched the man she was with dance his way back from the restroom in an attempt to hide his own inebriation. Watched the people around us notice them. And ultimately, watched them leave.
But let me tell you about that...
So, wasted woman once again scoots herself to the edge of the booth. Wasted man does as well. While she concentrates heavily on the movement of her feet touching the ground in front of her, wasted man stands up. I can see his feet planted firmly and his had holding his steady on the edge of the table. I watch wasted woman lift her butt off the seat of the booth and wasted man reach to catch her. She falls back into the booth and I see liquid dripping off the seat. Naturally I assume in the stubble to stand she has hit a drink and spilled it on the seat. As I am processing what I am watching, she stands. This is it guys, this is where the whole night became the most epic night at Red's ever.
She turns around, to get her sweater or purse or something, and I see a darkish spot covering the seat of her pants. Could it be the drink she spilled moments earlier? No, not likely, it's a pretty centered spot. Which, by the way, is still dripping. Like I can see it's a pretty soaked area. It dawns on me and I turn to Marissa and shockingly whisper to her, "Oh. My. God. She pissed herself." Now we are both watching as we are trying to decide that our observation is in fact true. Meanwhile, boisterous lady is saying her good-byes and is trying to get us to agree to join her for drinks at J&A (dive bar across the street). We draw our attention back to Mr. & Mrs. Totally Slammed, and watch and he tries to support her and they walk out in a drunken cluster. We decide that the restaurant needs to be aware of the bodily fluids pooled on that seat, well, and dripping to the floor. So Marissa gets up and tells the nearest waiter about what just happened.
Waiter dude jumps into action to get the area cleaned ASAP. He has also now notified management who promptly followed the couple out the door. They were aware that they were loaded but didn't realize it was to that extent. So, as waiter dude is at the table with gloves on and his spray bottle and rag in hand, one of the booths against the window has caught on to the commotion and sees the manager out the door with the couple. This is when she falls. She on the ramp outside and wasted man and manager are trying to help her up. Cell phones are out and more attention is being drawn to the unfolding situation. I see waiter dude gagging. This confirms my suspicions that it was in fact bodily fluids and not a spilled drink. Waiter dude heads to the kitchen and returns with more rags and a different spray, and a makeshift facemask made of a rag. He continues to tackle the job as sweet hostess girl sprays the area with room deodorizer.
Manager guy comes in while another manager dude is outside now babysitting the couple. They are sitting on the outside bench. The booth against the window is still speculating what the story is while they keep their phones handy for any viral gold. Manager guy checks on waiter dude who signals him over to our table. At this point, we know the situation as been handled and we were doing our best to not make any more of a scene. We had our check split and were just waiting for our waitress to come collect. Manager guy apologizes for what went down and assured us they were aware of the inebriation. He thanked us for letting them know and told us that he was covering our Valentine's dinner. While it was not necessary, he insisted. So all our food and drinks ended up being purchased by a guy, after all. (Just let our single selves enjoy that.)
Marissa had already planned to gift some random women with a pair of her fancy schmancy LuLaRoe Valentine leggings. So after having our meal covered (which by the way was SO good!), we decided to give the leggings out to the ladies there dining in the restaurant. It felt so good to continue to pass on the good vibes after manager guy was so nice. Then we walked out of the restaurant....
Waiter dude had just finished cleaning the table up and said good bye as we headed out the door. We walked in to the foyer past the manager office and manager guy thanked us again. The rest of the babysitting crew was just inside the foyer watching the couple through the windowed doors. They had called a cab or a cop or something to come deal with them. So the couple was forced to just sit and wait. We say good night and walk out the door. BAM! It hit me in the face like hot momma just caught her man cheating. Friends, wasted woman did not piss her pants. It was not a urine soaked booth. This was a whole new level. This was blog worthy. This was crazy. This was actually happening. She. Shat. Her. Pants. SHE SHAT HER PANTS! You read that right. This was no regular mud butt either. This was alcohol squirts! Brown liquefied matter from the anus of a plastered woman was in a pool on the ramp where she fell and in a dripping puddle beneath the bench which was holding her up. The smell that filled the outside air was burning the skin on my face and curling the hairs of my nose. My stomach turned and we walked quickly past the bench and attempted to get down wind. I'm telling you it smelt like it burned and she was drunk enough to not give a shit. (Except for that literal one.) I was forced to take a breath to scurry past her. But there was no way to avoid sucking in the fumes of her butt juice. So I literally held her butt fumes in my lungs long enough to force it out when I got to my car.
Marissa and I have been on lots of "dates" together, but I can honestly say that was probably one of the most memorable. We laughed throughout our meal and when we got to our cars. I think neither of us still can believe it happened. I mean, I realize that accidents happen. But it's a whole new experience in my life to witness a grown woman (who, by the way, was only there for about an hour) shit her pants. Liquid shit her pants. I can't imagine how drunk you'd need to be to mange that. I know I have never been that far gone. I sure wish I could have been around for the next day. Like does she even remember that night?? Did it end there? Is this a regular drunk experience for her?
Oh man. Seriously, friends, if you plan to drink beyond the threshold of conscious ability, wear a diaper. Better yet, stay home. Don't be the subject of a blog. Otherwise, (clean) bottoms up!
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