I can sleep through just about anything. My last apartment was ON Colorado Blvd. near Rose Medical Center and a fire station. It also had a bus stop in front of the building and a lot of weird cracked out people coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Now I live behind a bar. I live behind a bar that is also a music venue and hosts karaoke twice a week. Yes, you read that right. Karaoke two nights a week.
If you live behind a bar that does karaoke, you know exactly what I’m talking about, but for those of you sort of cocking your head to the side in confusion, let me explain. People get fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked up when they sing karaoke. I think it has to do with a need for liquid courage, but whatever it is, there is no crowd more wasted than a karaoke crowd. And the bar I live behind does it twice a week. Oh. And they have a huge patio. So, I’ve developed the ability to sleep through drunken yelling, fist fights and general revelry.
However, on occasion, I’m either still awake or sleeping very lightly and one or more people will grab my attention and I’ll perk up and listen or watch what happens below. Recently I’ve had two such occasions happen pretty close to one another and I thought I would share them with you.
The first was Saturday, when I listened to a band break up after their performance. It was late, and pretty obvious that they were drunk after their set and they were packing up their gear, when I start hearing this one guy yell at his girlfriend, calling her all sorts of names. I’m foggy on the details (I had just come back from a night of drinking as well), but I do remember him yelling louder and louder until finally, I heard the van start up.
Then more yelling as it became apparent that the rest of the band was in the van and intended on leaving this guy in the parking lot.
“Oh great, now my own band is leaving me! Give me back my shit, bro! Give me my shit!”
Then the response, “Where the fuck are you gonna put it? You don’t have the space for it!”
After about 5 minutes of this back and forth, I think they just left him there because it got really quiet. Poor guy. He used to be in a band and have a girlfriend. Now I think he has neither.
The next situation happened Tuesday night. I had been out at a happy hour (that lasted 5 hours, I’m looking at you, Lindsay) and was really scared about oversleeping and missing a 9 am meeting with Erika Napoletano, so I was kind of in and out of sleep, when, around 2:30 in the morning I was woken up by screams. Not terror screams. Anger screams.
I laid in bed trying to ignore them, but then they were accompanied buy a dull repetitive *thud*. Alright, that’s enough to get me to drag myself across the bed to crack the blinds and look out the window that overlooks a parking lots. What I saw blew my mind.
In the middle of the parking lot, in front of the pay station kiosk for the parking lot was a heavy set woman drunk off her ever loving ass roundhouse kicking the kiosk over and over while screaming at the payment screen on the kiosk.
Her kicks were so forceful and she was so drunk that every time she landed a kick on the machine, she would spin herself around 3-4 times and wind up about 10 feet away from the kiosk. She would stumble back to the kiosk and proceed to start kicking it again. Occasionally, she would mash some buttons on the screen and when nothing happened, she would scream and the kicking would resume.
I watched her do this for a half an hour.
She finally got tired of kicking and removed one of her shoes and started using it to hammer the top and sides of the payment machine. Still screaming, by the way.
Finally, I decided she wasn’t going to stop and I tried to go back to sleep. Pretty quickly after I laid down, the shadows in my room started flashing, which means only one thing: cops. I looked out the window to see four cop cars outside, all with flashing lights. The screaming lady was nowhere to be seen.
I assume she was arrested and more than likely broke one of her toes, since I don’t think you can kick anything that long without damaging something on your body.
So the moral of the story? I think there are several.
If you’re drinking at a neighborhood bar, know that someone in one of the buildings next to the bar will watch or hear when you make an ass of yourself.
Bodies can be trained to sleep through almost anything.
Parking lot pay stations are apparently huge dicks, but, man, can they take a beating.