Of Ex-Boxers, Crazy Dedicated Fans and Black Wednesdays.

Posted: November 25, 2011 by Mauricio Rubio Jr. in Uncategorized

The following story is mainly true, except for the parts that I made up/embellished. Only those who were actually there know the whole truth, and perhaps if you would like to find out, you should tag along next time. Unless you don’t, then you shouldn’t. 

It always starts innocently enough, so I’ll spare you that small detail. Simply know that we three gentlemen decided that after a fairly good recording session we should go and partake of the drinking holiday known as “Black Wednesday.”

“A few drinks,” one said. Knowing the company one should never be fooled about what a few drinks actually means. What it is to have a few drinks is to open Pandora’s box itself and delve into a dark downward spiral that quickly gets out of control thanks to circumstances not completely related to the alcohol consumption.

Surprisingly, the crew weren’t the source of trouble, but more on that later.

Off we went to a favorite spot, Cigars and Stripes. That in it of itself should have been a dark omen of things to come, and perhaps the movie playing on the projector should have alerted us to the danger lurking around the corner. I’ve never heard of “Thankskilling,” but by the looks of it I don’t ever want to hear of it again. It seems damn awful.

It was open mic night. Again, another sign that we should turn and run as fast as we could, but we stayed for the beer.

Walking back through the entangled mess of bad decisions is a dangerous road to take. I find that our real cue to leave was shortly after we befriended an old boxer, a tomato can more like it. His claims are believable, and perhaps in retrospect they are to be believable, but at the time we only cared about the rounds he was buying.

He said his name was Mike. He trained with Andrew Golota. After a few rounds of pints it became firmly clear that the man was not all up there, and with open mic night come all the worst comics in the Berwyn area. I couldn’t do it, but I’m sure some of you reading this (all 5 of you) could come out and do a better job. A man came up to me and the other Mexican in the room to ask permission to tell Hispanic jokes.

Thus the night continued.

Our biggest fan came out to meet us. We were all surprised that he hadn’t already stalked us down previously and trapped us in a Misery type setting. An agreeable chap that seems to be a bit of an instigator completed the foursome and we were busy sipping our complimentary beverages.

Perhaps the boxer had too many, perhaps he hadn’t had enough to forget the ghosts of boxing past, but as soon as a comic appeared on stage, he began the heckling. A long drawn out process began as a twiggy hipster look alike comic tried in vain to calm the beast. An effort by the bar’s owner to assuage the man also failed and one by one the crew excused themselves and retired to the rear room.

I was one of the last to go, my cue to leave being a text message simply stating “come out back, leave the fatman.”

I complied and all four were re-united. We decided to go to another bar, further down the road on Ogden, and before any of us knew it we were acting a fool. I’m sure there are images somewhere that we would never want to see the light of day, and being the photographer, I’ll ensure that they won’t.

It was after that we disbanded, and we invited our biggest fan to join our next podcast. There was a hipster bar after that and a whole lot of Busch, but the evening was pretty subdued.

If you become our next biggest fan, you can join in, and perhaps you shouldn’t, if you can’t hang that is.

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