Last night I went to see a local band who are friends of mine, The Road Dawgs (please, click the link and "like" their page on Facebook). They played at a small pub called "Victory Lane" which is kind of a dive but a local crowd of blue collar, lottery playing folks just out letting off steam - seemingly harmless and upbeat and responsive to the music. There was one table of, and believe me, I don't just throw this word out as loose judgement, but I will refer to them as assholes.
At random points, as the band would end a song, this AssTable would shout, "take a break", about half a dozen jerks that seemed to be having some meeting. I say, if you wanted to have a meeting in a quiet place, why would you gather in a bar that has a rock band playing? In my eyes, this is a special kind of assholing and as much as I tried to find some glimmer of a reason that would justify these people to be here, considering the venue they chose and everyone else's positive reaction to the music, I could find none.
I decided to get to the palce early because I wanted to have dinner there. I had planned my workout and all other earlier eating around eating here and I only knew that I wanted to try something other than what I had the last time (Cheeseburger Club - so good). I ended up having the Pulled Pork Cheddar Melt (fries on the side - I know, indulgent). the food was tasty but somewhere later in the night, my belly was feeling "odd"; doing backflips and I began to worry if I might need to leave and drive at speeds both illegal and dangerous to make it home before spontaneously combusting.
I just sat back and watched the band, breathing rhythmically and hoping to settle down. It got less uncomfortable for a while. I even made it until the end of the last set but I said my goodbyes to the band relatively quickly and once leaving the place, jogged to my car in the frigid darkness beginning to get that "explosive" feeling again.
I was able to drive at a safe speed and did lots of controlled breathing, in between yelps of pain. I got home with the intent of slugging down a shot of Pepto Bismol and perhaps...well, you know. Things got ugly, it was a bad hour or so before I was able to get myself together and make it to bed. The stomach was a bit queasy this morning but settled into the day.
I won't be ordering the pulled pork again.