Recently I was back at my happy place, or what used to be my happy place before I was almost killed by a horde of KISS fans. (Is it horde of KISS fans? Perhaps a mullet of KISS fans?)
I was at my beloved casino, and had just had a really awesome dinner – which was almost ruined by hipsters. (Do you see a pattern here?) I was with my parents and sister, we had a fun day hitting the slot machines, I was up $15 (YAY) and we decided to go to their nice chinese restaurant for dinner. I love this place, it’s small, and broken up into even smaller dining compartments that fit 2 tables and the food is fantastic.
We’re seated in a room with an older couple, who soon leave – and that’s when THEY arrive. The hipsters. Christ the hipsters. Now, usually I can tolerate them, and I will most likely hit them with a “bless your heart” about something ridiculous that comes from them, but these people were the most obnoxious people on the planet. The whole planet, quite possibly the galaxy.
First two come in, man & woman, sit and proceed to try to order some microbrew beer. This casino JUST got their liquor license after fighting with the state for years about a year ago, so no, they don’t have your precious, ironic beer. Morons. Then he reads the ENTIRE menu out loud to her and says he will order sushi. THERE IS NO SUSHI ON THE MENU, WHICH YOU JUST READ IN IT’S ENTIRETY, ASSHOLE. They finally decide, then, oh wait, there’s another one coming we’d better not order yet.
Now, if I was their waitress I would have spilled the hot tea on them out of fucking spite at this point, but she just smiled and walked away, to spit in his Bud Light I’m sure.
So finally the third one shows up, and he’s a LOUD TALKER. We all want to know his business because he announced every thought at the top of his fucking lungs. I know all about his baby and how she started to walk after holding onto the furniture and their hands and blah blah blah… Then this motherfucker took a phone call and repeated the same story even louder!
Then they decide they better hurry up since they’re going to the KISS concert, you know, to look at how old they are and stuff, you know, ironically. (How I didn’t kill these people I really don’t know.)
We finished our dinner, but not before my mother, God bless her, had just put her head in her hands and started saying “Tell us about Madeline again, did she walk? Holding your hands?” I lost it. I love her, she is my hero. But of course, it was lost on our intrepid trio.
We got the hell out of there, and since I had my $15 winnings I decided I was done gambling and would head up to the hotel room. The rest of them headed in the other direction to the slots, and I took off, forgetting I was heading right toward the entrance to the Event Center, which was between me and my room.
I entered a sea of long ratty mullets. I lost count of how many times I was actually shoved out of the way by people trying to get to the escalator to the Event Center. I was stepped on my women in tiny denim skirts and hooker pumps who had no business wearing those outfits. I actually had a hotel security guard body block a couple of young guys so I could get through.
When I made it to the hotel elevator I offhandedly told that security guard “You’re going to have an interesting night”.
He said “Yeah, the concert’s sold out, 5,000 people. It’s going to be a madhouse around 10:30.”
I said “I think I’ll stay upstairs.”
He held the elevator door open for me and said “That’s probably a really good idea.”
No kidding. That mullet of KISS fans is freaking vicious.