After I turned 21, my friend took me to a local bar to watch an 80s cover band he was in love with. Immediately upon arriving at the bar, this lady rolled up in her motorized wheelchair and began hitting on me. I have nothing against the physically disabled, but this lady was also mentally disabled and drunk, very drunk in fact.
I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t, because she rolled on top of my foot. She wanted me to dance with her, but I politely declined. I didn’t know how to dance, and if I did, I might’ve danced with her to have a good story to tell later (I still have a good story to tell anyway). In her drunken slur, she managed to spit on me a few times. VD can’t be passed through saliva, right? Right??
“Hey babe, let’s dance!” she would say.
“No, sorry I don’t know how. I would love to otherwise…” I would respond.
“I saw you dancing earlier, I think you’re a great dancer!”
“No, that can’t be possible. I just got here.”
“Don’t lie, you’re a great dancer and I want to dance with you!” she retorted.
I even tried to turn her attention toward my friend, who was having the laugh of his life. The helplessness felt like The Battle of Helm’s Deep. My defenses were useless against the 10,000-strong Uruk-Hai, and my friend is not Gandalf arriving with the Riders of the Rohirrim at the break of dawn.
I turned to my friend and begged, “Greg, help me!” Turning my attention back toward my retarded seductress, I said, “What about my friend Greg? He’s a great dancer and he loves blondes!” He immediately sprang up out of his stool and darted to the bar to buy a drink. Honestly, I’ve never seen him move that fast.
I kept trying to deter any and all advances she tried to make, like the one where she tried to snake her hand up my thigh toward my dollar and two cents (if you know what I mean.) Her bear claw-like grasp on my thigh, nor the fact that her motorized wheelchair was still on top of my foot weren’t helping her case.
Finally realizing that she probably won’t get laid, at least not with me, she rolled away sad and defeated. My friend came back and said, “Dude, how funny was that?” and he put his hand up as if he was expecting a high five. If only I could high five his face with a shotgun blast…
