So last night I went over to Allyson’s house for a little get together. I work with Allyson, and we’re close friends. She lives two blocks away from me and I’d never been to her house before. She went out of her way to get me to come over calling me multiple times to make sure I knew where to go. Not only that, but I made a tremendous effort to move my ass since I’ve got two torn ligaments in my ankle and a brace on my foot which makes it difficult to go anywhere. It’s a hassle for me to even go to the bathroom, so going to a party wasn’t exactly at the top of my list. Still, it was a lot of my friends from work and I hadn’t seen any of them for a while. Also, due to the constant ibuprofen in my bloodstream I hadn’t drank in a week. I said “fuck it, it’s Saturday night.” I skipped my dose, got my crutches, and went over to Allyson’s for a little friendly soiree.
When I got there it was nice enough. There was whiskey, beer, music, friends, and cigarettes. Who could ask for more? Well we got more. After about an hour of pleasant company Allyson’s roomates came home from wherever they were. I don’t really have a problem with most of Allyson’s roommates. I’ve met some of them before, I’ve seen them around town, a couple have even been to my house. They’re generally good people, but they are definitely easily stereotyped. It’s almost as if they go out of their way to conform to the aesthetic of their “club”, much like a lot of punks did in the late ’90s. They dress in dirty black clothes. Their pants are self-tailored to fit very tightly. They listen to metal. They’re fashionably adorned with bones and/or large earrings. Their hair is fashioned in a “rebellious” way such as mohawks, dreadlocks, or some other “radical” style. They have tattoos, often homemade, usually solid black bands or a series of solid lines on their arms. To one who isn’t familiar with the parlance of hipster culture they look like gypsies. To those that are, they are what is known as Green Metal.
I’ll reiterate that I don’t have a problem with these people. I’m not one to judge a person based on anything other than their actions. (Though, let’s face it, some people wave their personality from a flagpole.) Allyson’s roommates are good people, except for one of them.
He stormed into the house loudly and belligerently drunk. I can relate. I drink plenty and drinking lends itself to being drunk. I am sometimes loud, and with the right combination of liquor and circumstance I have been known to run off at the mouth. Also, this was his house, so he had every right to behave in any way he saw fit, or in his case whatever manner poured out of his blurred mind without a filter. I was sitting on the couch facing away from the door. I turned my head to look in his direction. When he met my gaze I was greeted with a curt, “Who the fuck are you?”
I was taken aback and more than a little offended, but I was in his house (even though I was specifically invited by someone that also lives there) so I sucked it up. I told him, “I’m Wylie,” as I reached out for the obligatory handshake greeting, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“You don’t need to know my name.” he slurred as he left me hanging. I surmised that he was exactly right.
That would have been it for me. I would have been perfectly happy for our relationship to go no further. I’d gathered enough information from this dude to realize that:
a) He’s drunk
b) He’s rude
c) He’s dumb
d) He doesn’t think much of me
e) He would probably fight with very little provocation
His next move, after cussing at me and then snubbing we, was to change the music. No one in that room was really that excited about what was playing. It was good, but it was background ambiance and nothing more. Still, it was a room full of people, one of whom lived there, and we were there first. A more considerate man would have at least asked if we minded.
To take it a step further, someone that wasn’t a complete asshole would have at least had the replacement music picked out. This guy shut off the music, then went looking for his laptop, then looked for the cables to hook it up, then booted it up, then sifted through his library for something he wanted to hear. When he finally found something he deemed worthy it ended up being some Neil Young knockoff wannabe bullshit homemade indie lo-fi crap. It sounded like shit and was completely inappropriate for a roomful of people having a good time.
Whatever. His house, right? I ignored him the best I could. That lasted about 5 minutes. My peace was shattered when he figured out we (Lindsay and I) had beer. He asked Lindsay, not very politely mind you, if he could have one. We had four left from a sixer between the two of us. He was already wasted and I didn’t like him. I didn’t want to give him anything of mine. Lindsay felt the same way, but what are you gonna do? After all we were in his living room, and if I asked a stranger in my house for one of their beers I’d expect to get one. But I’m not a rude asshole of a prick. I treat guests in my home with kindness, hospitality, and respect. This guy was a straight up jerk. Lindsay tried to ignore his request. It worked for a bit, but after a while he was relentless. Lindsay gave him a Mirror Pond, a moderately heavy amber, which he immediately slammed. Then he asked us for more. We tried to explain that we didn’t have much and we didn’t want to give all our beer to him, but that didn’t stop him from perpetually asking for it.
Eventually his shitty song ended, and when it did he put on some aggro metal. That was it for us. I like metal well enough, but it was 2 in the morning and completely out of place. Lindsay and I both decided it was time to leave.
We gathered our things and made our way out the door. By the time we did he was on the porch smoking and we had to get past him. I made my way out first and as I made my way past, hobbling on my one good leg, he once again asked me for a beer.
“No way dude.” I said without even looking up at him.
I was already in the car when Lindsay made her way out. He asked her again, but before he did he asked, “What’s up with your friend? He’s acting like a dick.” This, of course, didn’t win any points with Lindsay. Still she was more polite than I was in declining this fuckhead one of the two beers we had left. Instead of just accepting that we weren’t going to give him the last of our beer he followed her out to the car harassing her the whole way. He kept saying things like, “What if I made you some sort of deal?” as though he had anything at all to offer either one of us. Lindsay kept repeating that we weren’t giving him any of our beer, each refusal more blunt than the last. That didn’t stop him though. She was in the car trying to close the door as he held it open and rudely insisted that we give him our beer. At this point his roommates were pulling him back and telling us to “Just go.” We closed the car doors as we drove away hearing him cursing us as we left.
I’m not one that’s inclined to fight. I haven’t actually been in a fight since I was 18. But I’ll have you, and him, know that the only reason I didn’t break a bottle across his stupid ugly face was because I didn’t want to fuck up my foot any further. That may sound like a cop out, but it was literally the only thing holding me back from beating this piece of human shit bloody. Fuck you Liam. If I ever see you again it’ll be too soon.