Welcome to today’s blog post: a story in which a romantic ladies night in North Carolina, starting with dirty martinis and delicious food at the Paper Canoe, turns to ash as the evening evolves into perverted old men and lewd gestures.
Meet the ladies:
The Paper Canoe is awesome. Great food, great drinks, great service, and on the water – all you can ask for in a restaurant, really. Dani and Jess became regulars in the last couple weeks, and made friends with the bartender and general manager. After a scrumptious meal (and even better cocktails) which included Jess’s entree, a suspiciously salmon-y looking Irish trout full of gloriousness, we headed to the Sunset Grille. A local watering hole, they have a popular cocktail called “Jurassic Punch”, which is served in this very classy, elegant glass:
As you can see, it is a quality establishment. The bar was loud and raucous, filled with a good mix of patrons (many in various states of inebriation), and we opted to sit outside, at a lovely table on the pier. The three of us had purchased cigars earlier, and our table was a perfect place to sit with our drinks and smoke our cigars* in peace.
We were soon joined by an incredibly intoxicated older man, Tim, who swayed slightly while asking if he could sit down. Not wanting to be rude, especially as our subtle ‘go away’ hints were lost in his alcohol-induced daze, we let him grab a seat, where he proceeded to stare at us for the next hour, repeatedly offering to introduce us to his family. Jess entertained herself by changing her name to Jessa and offering small lies about the three of us – mainly, that we were all married and Dani had two children, including a boy of two named Malachy.
We alternately puffed on our cigars and sipped our drinks, staring at the water and avoiding the enormous spider that had parked itself near Jess’s – excuse me, Jessa’s – chair. It was terribly windy and our cigars kept going out, so we spent half the night trying to re-light them with a pitiful little yellow BIC lighter.
While Tim was creepy, he was harmless enough and providing us with great entertainment with his stories and off-color comments. The evening really started to disintegrate when a large, sweaty man plopped himself in a seat beside Jess. He informed us that males have approximately 70 nerve endings in their, uh, equipment, while women have 700. We were the lucky sex, we were told, and god put men and women on this earth to be good to one another. He turned to Jess and invited her to have passionate, wild sex with him – man to wo-man (yes, pronounced whoa, man). Jess, although truly tempted, turned him down. During the course of the following conversation, we heard all about his issues with his wife. When asked why he had issues, he said she gets angry with him because he stays out all night and smokes a lot of pot. He became upset when we suggested that might be his trouble.
After some ensuing creepiness, both from sweaty guy (who continued talking about sex even though we were uncomfortably edging away from him) and Tim (who started talking about how he thought the three of us should be mermaids, making us worry a bit he’d toss us over the pier just to see if we emerged from the water with tails), we managed to extricate ourselves from the situation and flee to the bar for safety, where Jess could finish her beer before we left for the night.
While safely ensconced on a stool, I happened to glance across the bar and make unintentional eye contact with a young, swarthy, glasses-wearing man who was drinking a Miller Lite. While maintaining eye contact with me (with no blinking), he crudely inserted his tongue into the bottle neck of his Miller Lite in a highly suggestive and disgusting way. Horrified, I stared at him for a few minutes, then turned to Dani and Jess and suggested we leave immediately.
Dani, upon hearing why I thought we should leave, felt she should give a live demonstration on why it would be unwise for any men to decide to harass us. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a gigantic leatherman and flashed the pliar section, snapping them open and shut loudly, making aggressive eye contact. She dropped the leatherman back into her bag, then fished out a small knife. Whipping the knife around, she announced to the bar in general that she “comes prepared.” She then cackled loudly, giving the impression she is completely deranged. I took her weapons from her, dropped them back into her purse, and we made our escape.
* cigar smoking lends plenty of ‘that’s what she said’ joke opportunities. For example, while trying to light mine, I offhandedly said “I might die if I have to keep sucking on this.”