Make Way! Pregnant Lady in Bar!

Last night we did something crazy...Yes, we were outside our apartment past 11, but that's not all...We went to a bar to see a friend play live music. When we usually see this friend play, it's in a relaxed, intimate setting with plenty of space and seating (and now we all know how much Stephanie loves chairs). Just a man and his acoustic guitar. Last night...turns out last night was a different type of gig altogether. First, we had to get our IDs checked at the door, which already makes me feel out of place. That means the majority of people who frequent this place are closer in age to 21. And we are just slightly outside of that demographic. (Okay...I'm slightly outside of the coveted 18-34 advertising demographic altogether. Which makes no sense because I didn't have any money between the ages of 18-34. But that's another post for another blog.) So we get inside the bar and it is JAM PACKED with young, drunk people. Literally, wall-to-wall-to-wall-to-wall with tall, skinny, carefree, sloppy, loud, people. People are making out. People are spilling shots. People are pumping their fists and yelling "We are causing a ruckus!" Which, by the way, if this were an actual ruckus, you wouldn't need to point it out to everyone. At the root of their excitement (besides alcohol) is our friend on acoustic guitar...except he's now flanked on stage by two electric guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer. This is not the intimate evening we are expecting. This is a full-on concert. But remember, we're out past 11. We made a special trip to see this show. We can't turn back now. Also, the entrance has been swallowed up by a gaggle of scantily-clad women swaying back and forth like arm-flailing inflatable tube men. No escape. So we must press on. The hostess at the front sees panic in our eyes and says, "There's also a bar in the back. Might be less crowded there." The bar is approximately 100 feet away. But standing between us and the bar are roughly 2000 people.

It looked something like this.

Now we have to press on. And Stephanie is being sent into a mass of unsteady humanity. We struggle to push our way through the crowd, and at every oblivious, drunken roadblock I just want to scream out, "Make way! Pregnant lady coming through! Show some respect!" But then I realize...the only appropriate reaction to that would be, "A pregnant lady? In a crowded bar!? Are you crazy??" followed by the entire bar booing us. It was at this moment that I realized maybe things are going to be different from here on out. We eventually make it to the back bar, where we watch the show from a TV while sitting comfortably in the corner. But the entire time in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "Well, this is it. We're stuck here forever. Unless we arm ourselves and fight our way out." I start looking around the bar for weapons I can use to part the crowd. 'Hm, those old-fashioned hipster lightbulbs could be effective. Maybe I can pull the leg off my chair. This tabletop has a nice copper finish that would work as a nice battering ram.' Eventually I abandon that idea and decide to ask for an application to become a bartender. I figure if we're going to be living here, I'll need to pay for rent. Then, the unthinkable happens...

The table behind us has received their food order. Quesadilla. And some sort of indistinguishable Mediterranean cuisine. Something I haven't mentioned yet is that Stephanie's sense of smell has suddenly become very acute. And once the odor from the quesadilla hits her nose, she is ready to leave. Like, immediately. There is no debating this. My dreams of becoming a bartender must be put on hold. We must escape. I quickly pay the bill (after a tense moment where I'm giving a faulty pen), and start thinking of an exit strategy. I spot a Fire Exit in the back, but the alarm may go off, and we don't want to shut down our friend's show. We realize the only way out is through...Back through the drunken mess. We steel ourselves. I take in a deep breath as we prepare to turn the corner. And now it's time...

We enter the main room to find...these 21-year-olds are kind of lame. Half the room has cleared out, and it's only midnight! God bless Millenials and their short attention spans (Yeah! Take that, Millenials!). We're able to casually stroll through the bar as if we're cool action heroes walking away from an explosion. We even got our own soundtrack. But yeah, that's the last time we'll do that. 

-Steve