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» Nightclubs

Date Rape
While this isn't my story, I was there, and only a few feet away when it happened so I can verify it actually happened. Wouldn't have believed it otherwise, really.

My fellow trance/house enthusiast and friend Landon (name not changed, he's proud of this story) is a bit of a twunt. He's the guy who's always got an outrageous story to tell, a joke for every occasion, the kind of guy that can pull off being a SXSW talent coordinator while shitfaced and pull it off (a story for another time).

Now, this one concert we went to ended up being a bit of a drag - the organizers decided to interrupt the DJs with an amateur talent show, catwalk pulled out, shitty music, anorexic models, and "industry" girls asking what you do in the off chance either of us scruffy fellows (gurning and rolling off our tits) could be their ticket to a life of cocaine and high fashion.

Now, Landon got the bright idea of killing time during the traffic show by picking up girls a couple levels out of his league. Plastic cup in hand, he shoves his head into a crowd of four girls sitting at a table and, in a shifty, slightly foreign accent he goes,

"Excuse me, but do you know where I can get, erm, I can't remember what they're called... you put them in someone's drink when... when you want to go home with them."

At this point I remember their looks of disgust turn to one of abject horror.

"DATE RAPE!?" one of them shouts, loud enough to turn heads over the shitty music.

"I, I don't know. Is that what they're called? These pills, you put them in drinks and they get sleepy and..."

"DATE RAPE!?!" she shouts again. By this point the models are looking a bit nervous and I see a bouncer heading our way.

"I, I suppose. Do you know where to get them?"


Then, in perfect English he replies "Thank god, watch my drink!" and walks off towards the bathroom.

The abrupt transformation from horror, to confusion, to tears-streaming-down-face laughter was truly a sight to behold.

When he returned from the bathroom, he made a show of looking at his drink, trying to see if anything had been put in it, getting the girls even further in stitches.

Of course, they were still far, far out of his league, so he didn't pull, but they bought him a drink and I've been eating out on this story for years.
(Tue 14th Apr 2009, 0:20, More)

» Nightclubs

Ecstacy ain't all bad, kids...
As most people know, ecstasy is appropriately named - while on it, you just feel like everything in the world is wonderful. I relate it to the feeling you'd get if you just won the lottery and realized you'd never have to worry about money again - ever.

Understandably, get enough people rolling in the same place and you've got a recipe for instant friends - complete strangers that you'd happily give a kidney to if they asked, and you know they'd do the same. Better than drunken comradery if you ask me, less chance of vomiting over your new best friends.

There's a certain code between rollers, slowly picked up from different experiences but instantly understood if you're on ex - mostly nonverbal, a nod and a wink. A light show from someone with glowsticks. A blast from a vic's tube. A bottle of water shared without worry between sweating dancers. Everybody wants to help everybody else have a good roll.

At one point I remember getting a light show from a guy with ten finger-lights and feeling hands on my shoulders giving me an unexpected massage - turns out the light raver's fiance would go to shows with him regularly and dazzle overstimulated rollers in a tagteam of light and sensation.

I remember playing with a girl's long, flowing hair for half an hour, the feeling of her hair between my fingers absolutely amazing.

I've even made out with a few girls, not a word spoken between us, just smiles and hugs and then kisses shared without hesitation or thought. Of course, the ecstasy meant going further was rather unlikely, but the feeling was almost as good as sex as it was.

I've had to cut back and eventually quit over the last two years, as my new girlfriend rather dislikes my next-day fugue and would rather go to shows sober and dance instead of space out...

But I still miss those carefree days, the mind-numbing explosions of light and touch, and the absolutely unparalleled feeling of complete comradery with strangers that I have rarely experienced since.

Le sigh.
(Wed 8th Apr 2009, 20:41, More)

» I'm your biggest Fan

1st page!
I'm so slow...

But, right, a story.

My coworker is a big fan of Spiderman - he even has a tattoo of the logo on his arm. A bit out of place on a late-30's family man photographer with social skills and a well-paying job, but there's a reason for it.

Before Mark (name changed to protect the geeky) decided to become a photographer, he had spent years training to be a graphic novel artist. He was pretty damn good, too. He even got noticed by Marvel - and not just noticed, he actually got a job offer with them, a multiple-comic contract for his own subseries. He would be the principal artist on an entire Spiderman comic book, with options to continue if he did a good enough job. Little known fact - each principal artist that has ever drawn Spiderman is given the task/honor of drawing his spider logo their own way, which is the official logo for every comic they create.

If you were a huge Spiderman fan and were offered a chance to draw an actual Marvel Spiderman comic for millions to buy and read, your name top on the credits, and Spiderman himself wearing the logo you designed, what would you do?

...He didn't take the job.

At the time he was halfway through college, with a serious girlfriend/future wife, and decided he would rather continue his education than take a job offer that would force him to drop out mid-year and move across the country.

He tells me he's happy with how his life has gone - he has a beautiful wife, a son, and a decent job - but the Spiderman logo he got tattooed on his arm forever represents that road not taken - taking that step past fandom and into creator itself.

Great guy, he is. The office would be so much more dull without him.
(Thu 16th Apr 2009, 21:04, More)

» Public Sex

House Arrest
Most of these stories follow a similar theme - "oh look at the list of places I've allegedly had sex in" and/or "this one time I almost got caught boldly having sex somewhere I shouldn't" and the like.

This is the story of my friend we shall call Chris (for that is his name), the living example of when these stories go wrong - and not in the charming "oh, you got us copper!" vein, but in the "my life is ruined forever" sort of way.

Three years ago, Chris had sex with his girlfriend in a parking lot. It was still technically day, but it was getting dark, and it was a seldom used lot. Imagine their surprise when a little old lady passes by, nearly faints in shock and calls the police who, unfortunately, were quite nearby.

Now imagine their surprise when Chris was put under 1 year's house arrest, declared a sex offender, struck with probation that included a 10pm curfew, weekly sexual deviant meetings with actual rapists and pedophiles, and restrictions on drinking, sex, masturbation, and even being within 100 yards of anywhere anyone under the age of 18 would likely be, all with semi-annual polygraph (lie detector) tests, for the next four years.

Turns out the judge was another old lady whose daughter had been "severely disturbed and distraught" by a close encounter with a football game streaker (as in having seen him from 50 yards) and was keen on keeping these dangerous sex pests off the streets and away from children.

Which is a bit unfair, considering he was having consensual sex between two adults and had a spotless record.

He's gone through several lawyers trying to get this overturned - but it's been years already, and his probation is up in less than a year, so getting anything changed at this point is rather moot. Still, he had to spend four years (prime years at that, 18-22!) being completely unable to enjoy the very things that life is about - sex, alcohol and self abuse.

Poor bastard.
(Fri 24th Apr 2009, 15:53, More)

» Tramps

I once saw a hobo with a sign that said "kick me in the nuts for a dollar"
...best twenty dollars I ever spent.
(Mon 6th Jul 2009, 21:46, More)
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