Oh, he’s from Leeds!
It has been too long, the DayDrinker has been super busy, collecting tales of Vegas tribulations. But first, a good Vegas story, to keep my buzz going, before diving into the sorted stories that include phrases like “Let’s just compare arrest records, I don’t have a history of fighting. I haven’t been arrested in… god, a long time.” Perhaps the best character description ever.
But that is for later, for now, I’d like to talk about the charming adventure I took through the chain link fence behind the Sherwin Williams into the parking lot of the Crown and Anchor, the best place in town to catch the first USA game of the World Cup, because as you ought to know, it was against Britain. Or as the chalk board informed me, it was Britain 1: Yanks 1.
The place was so crowded they’d set up a tent in the back 40 to accommodate everyone. Course the DirecTV didn’t work for shit in the back so everyone had to crowd on the front patio to try and catch a glimpse of the game. Since not much happened in the second half, it didn’t matter too much anyway, and the people watching was more than enough entertainment.
There was a strung out skinny American dude swaying back and forth and occasionally shouting “USA USA” next to me and a loud mouthed British chick with an unfortunate ‘70’s shag haircut, a smoking habit, and the deepest scream I’ve ever heard come out of a woman not being fucked. (I can only imagine, though I choose not to).
The skinny stoner was just really annoying her for some reason, she needed to know what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t really follow the words coming out of her mouth (it may have been because apparently no one in the States can accurately distinguish between the Irish, English, Australian and South African accents- a conversation that was being held in at least five different places on the grounds at all times). In any event, she finally just came out and asked “What’s wrong with you?” to which the British “bloke” to her left retorted “He must be from Leeds!”. This was, apparently, hilarious.
But that wasn’t as good as the fight that we heard about in which a “bird” was looking to walk out for a breath of air, some dude called her a bitch. That, it turns out, wasn’t her name, and she didn’t much care for it as a nickname, so she, did what any reasonable person in the middle of a bar in the middle of a Britain USA game would do and slugged him across the face. Not one to miss out, he pulled her hair and wrapping it around his fist prepared to wail her back, but then- gallantry to the rescue! Five other guys jumped on the first and smashed his face until he unhanded the lady.
No one was arrested, however, so they can still compare favorably with their friends. They’ve not been arrested in gosh, just ages!
This was a good day in Vegas.
