The Elbow Molester

Not be a tardy drunkard, I arrive at White Rhino to meet Amy and Rachel about 5 minutes early. A small and familiar light vibrate comes from my hoodie pocket.

TEXT (Rachel) – My brother is coming with…. BLAH BLAH BLAH…. Won’t be there until 9:30PM.

Great. I walk into the bar and am greeted by the dinner crowd. Oh yes - The dinner crowd. You know this crowd. The “I’m so much better than everyone else” crowd. The “Look at me while I sit here and get shit faced but I’m not an alcoholic because I eat food when I drink” crowd. The “I’m in a healthy marriage because we have date night but sit across from each other for 45 minutes and don’t say a word” crowd. I hate them. I hate them and their napkins and their to go boxes. Fuck them.

Well- Amy has got to be here by now so I casually do a scan of the eating area. I am sure you are all familiar with this scan. The “FIND YOUR FRIEND” moment is always so awkward. I can feel the judging stares of middle aged moms and dads rip through my back like their over cooked steak knife. Must be nice to be so much better than everyone else with your functioning liver and your wet naps. Fuck them. I scan a few tables, take a few steps, scan a few more tables, walk around not to slow as to seem like I’m a weirdo but not too fast because then I will miss Amy. One would think that this would have been the most uncomfortable part of my night. One would be wrong.

Once I determine clearly that Amy is not yet at our chosen location of debauchery, I attempt to stake out a good purchasing position at the bar. Here is where I made my rookie mistake. The place decision was based on convenience and not out of strangers. Despite what you think- drinking with strangers is not always fun. Here was the exchange-

“Jamaican”
“Excuse me?”
“Jamaican”
“I’m sorry- Are you saying that you’re Jamaican or are you asking me if I am Jamaican?”
“What are you doing here?”

From this point forward- everything that happens is my fault. Why is it not a giant red flag to walk away when Barney from the Simpson’s stunt double has either just asked me if I was Jamaican or told me that he was? I digress. He then took his right hand and cupped my elbow. It was a cup very similar to only what I could imagine the turn your head and cough cup would feel like.

“Gjnuuenvdhfi jifds jfdii vnsfuei”
“What? I’m sorry. I really don’t understand you.”
“hGhdfet hudshf big breasts and nice elbows.”

At this point, there is not only elbow cupping happening, there is some definite caressing going on. I snatch my molested elbow away from him. I turn around and immediately find a table in the dinner section. I mean, if I am safe anywhere, its in the lame ass diner section, right? I pull my trusty 1 bar of battery cell phone out of the hoodie and text Amy. She tells me that she right outside just as the dinner waitress asks me to move. See- you thought I was kidding before about the stuck up dinner people. Nope. I wasn’t.

Amy arrives and we retreat to a table in the back. We immediately order two shots and a pitcher of Coors Light for a grand total of $8. I tell Amy the story, reliving every disgusting detail of the drunk stranger touching my elbow. Amy says “Jamaican? Did you tell him that he’s Jamaican you wanna leave?” The rest of the night was a blast and I will say that I had one for the books… but we can’t include that here because that is drinking with friends… and to be quite honest, those stories are private (That was for you Ang).