photo credit: ryumu

Standing in the brisk, Northwest out-of-doors, handcuffed and wearing a tattered t-shirt among a gawking crowd of perky club-goers, it is difficult to not be shocked at one’s circumstances. But really, in hindsight, perhaps it was a poor decision to show up to Bellingham Washington’s premier booty-shakin’ frat boy club with a crew of ‘punk rockers.’ Perhaps this establishment’s reaction to such outsiders was not shocking at all. But the idea was so attractive at the time. Also attractive was the immediate, blatant display of feigned homo erotic dancing by two of my more lubricated straight male cohorts. On the virtually empty dance floor. There were looks.

photo credit: icanteachyouhowtodoit

Then came the influx of muscle-bound mean in crisp white hats, accompanied by bubbly women in scant dresses and thick warpaint. The club was, as they say, ‘bumpin’. It’s times like these when you bask in the glorious dichotomy of it all, thinking hey, these bros might be calling my friends ‘faggot,’ but I am shaking my improperly dressed booty all up in their club, and initiating responses like “they SMELL.”

After a while, a thick-necked bouncer decided a couple friends of mine weren’t dancing hard enough, and told them they’d have to leave the dance floor unless they were willing to put a little more effort into shaking it. Up until this point, none of us were aware that one could be considered to be loitering while inside such an establishment.

After a couple more confrontations about various rule-breaking (including wearing a hood or beanie inside) the bouncer was willing to take no more of these ruffians’ guff, and we were told we’d have to leave. So we were escorted into the side alley, where my lovely friend spit in said bouncer’s face as he tried to put another, particularly verbally saucy friend into a headlock. In hindsight, mistake number two.

Dude chased the spitter to the sidewalk, grabbed him, and focused his choking on his newest victim. I yelled repeatedly for him to let up, that he was over doing it, etc, to no avail. Then i touched his arm, so as to better get his attention. Another 250 lb.