I’m a Dirty Little Hobbit
You may be wondering what this post is about with a title like that. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you in suspense long.
I was recently invited to a concert. The particular concert featured 311 and Slightly Stoopid. If you’re unfamiliar with either or these two bands, suffice it to say that they are of the “Amerified” reggae variety. A lot of songs about relaxing, happiness, and weed. I’m don’t smoke weed. It’s not that I have something against it, I just don’t really like it. My weapon of choice is alcohol.
The concert started off great, but I knew what was going to happen. Let me set the scene for you. We had seats on the lawn, which should be more aptly named the slopey, muddy cheap seats.
So there I am butt wet and muddy with my shoes off so that I don’t ruin them. The beer, which cost about 12 dollars for a 24 oz., quenching my thirst in the midday sun. I was having a good time and just relaxing and listening to music. The aroma of the concert was definitely of the illegal kind. Well, sooner or later the beers start to catch up to me and before I know it its nightfall and I’m swinging my shirt above my head and sliding down this muddy slope.
At one point I started pulling the rope tied to the barricade so that the barricade would fall and all the people would rush forward only to be driven back by security. I was that guy.
I suddenly realize I have to use the bathroom so I go to the bathroom. While walking in someone inquired as to why I didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and my reply, which seemed the most logical at the time, was that I was a hobbit. I’m not quite sure why I said it, but I’m glad I did. The guys face was one of bewilderment and slight amusement. I then merrily skipped (probably more like a drunken shuffle) into the bathroom where I probably stepped on more urine than I even want to think about. My thinking was that I was going to wash my feet, so it didn’t matter. Unfortunately I didn’t think about the fact that I was going to put my feet back into my shoes and they would be forever tarnished with the urine of a thousand potheads.
The night wasn’t over there, however. After the concert we decided to go to a place called TAPS where they had hundreds of beer choices. What more to finish off the gallon of beer I had earlier, more beer. I played a round of cornhole (its not what you think…google it) and then left to eat.
We arrived at Dots at about 3AM and I proceeded to devour a jalapeno and onion hamburger while my friend made an ass of himself to the surrounding tables. Note to self, putting sausages up to your ears and screaming, “I’ve got sausage ears!” is not as funny if you’re not drunk.
120 dollars later, I was home safely in my bed. I think I should mention that we had a designated driver. I would never drive after drinking anymore. I made that mistake one time and I will never go through the trouble it caused ever again. I did however get to sit in the passenger side and watch people get arrested for driving drunk. I even watched one guy get tackled off his motorcycle. Texas highway patrol doesn’t play around…