I can’t stay silent any longer. I have to come forward to let everyone know that I’ve been violated. The last 12 times (or three weeks) that I’ve been to Felson’s I’ve been horrified by the sight of people that I don’t know. It’d be one thing to not recognize an ITB-esque visitor, someone from an area of equivalent superiority (NOT Charlotte) possibly from the rich parts of Atlanta, for example. I can live with that because if the visitor is dressed like I am then he’s got to be from a similar pedigree. However, the people that I’ve seen roaming around Felson’s recently are clearly gel heads and clearly poor. How do I know this? I present to you Exhibit A:
This picture does not do justice to how horrendously common this guy is. He had shitty graphics on both sides of his shirt, which is very rare. Most gel heads only have graphics on the front of their shirts. How do I know this? Unfortunately, I learned this in the confines of our own bar. I give you Exhibit B:
Still not convinced that these commoners have started to take over our bar? Please view Exhibit C:
As you can see, the bar is being overrun by this filth. It all started a few weeks ago in the parking lot. I flung my door open as I pulled into a parking spot only to hear the sound of my door hitting the side of a tricked out Honda Civic. Furious, I got out to check the damage and saw the whole side of the Civic was scratched and dented. I drunkenly checked my door and saw that there was no damage. Obviously, I locked my car and continued to the bar. Sorry for partying, but that’s what you get for driving a piece of shit car that I can’t see from my SUV. I noticed that the parking lot was full of these cars; it looked like the set of that Fast and the Furious movie that’s being re-re-made. Confused, I walked in the door and was greeted by some goofy white guy who I now refer to as “not Marcus” because, well, he isn’t Marcus and I refuse to learn the new guy’s name. As I walked to the bar, I was horrified to see Exhibit A standing at my regular spot waiting to be served. There were so many gel heads there that when I was trying to order my drinks I actually had to wait in line like a normal person. I felt so violated. As I stood there waiting I overheard the following conversation between three of these commoners:
Gel Head #1: “Yo dawg, you been here before?”
Gel Head #2: “Nah dude, this is my first nizight”
Gel Head #3: “First nizight! Damn, I come here all the time now. Let’s get some drinks and walk around so people don’t see us standing by ourselves not talking to girls”
Gel Head #1: “Aight, cool, let’s hit up dat dance flo’ so I can drop some roofies in some bitches’ drinks, fo’ real!”
First night? FIRST night? Not only is this gel head ruining my night at the bar, but now I hear I’m his first. After hearing this exchange I almost had a panic attack. I turned to Forrest and told him I couldn’t feel my face and that I must have been hallucinating from the drugs I’d just done. It was real similar to another famous breakdown, but nowhere near as intense.
Forrest assured me that everything would be ok, this was just one night; there’s no way they would continue to show up and socially violate us. He was wrong, the next night was even worse, this time a few of the gel heads brought girls with them. Notice, I said a “few” of them brought girls with them. The majority of the gel heads would just show up and stand around looking retarded or spend the whole night on the dance floor grinding up on our girls before being shunned. To make things even worse, these new girls were really attractive. Since my friends and I have been passing around the same few girls for a few years now I thought it might be fun to try out some new ones. But apparently, these girls all had college educations, jobs, and self-esteem. What was I supposed to say to them? How the hell was I going to make them think I liked them for 20 minutes in order to take them home? They wanted to have real conversations about Obama and health care or some shit that I was easily confused by. One girl started talking about her job working for a non-profit group, which I didn’t understand. How the hell can she afford to be at Felson’s, or even inside the beltline, if she works for a non-profit? She started going on and on about how much she loved helping the less fortunate. This immediately let me know she didn’t belong there. The conversation ended abruptly when I told her that I don’t help charities because they don’t help themselves. It’s probably best that I didn’t go home with her, she was definitely the type of girl that would want to go on dates and be treated with respect, two things I don’t do.
I felt less and less secure each night as these commoners took over the bar. The first few times I just continued to get blackout to avoid dealing with feeling violated. It was somewhat successful, but the infestation continued the next weekend and getting blackout just wasn’t enough. I would still wake up the next afternoon and have to think about how these gel heads had been inside Felson’s, how they took kamikaze shots or jager bombs or whatever they take at my spot at the bar, and how they stalked the dance floor patiently waiting to roofie some drunk girl. This has to be stopped. If we don’t take back the Felson’s we’ll be forced to put up with these gel heads for who knows how long. What’s next, gel heads at late night or even worse at Harris Teeter? I don’t even want to pretend that that’s a possibility. There have been similar groups who have banded together to make their message stronger. I know for a fact that some people have taken back the night, so there’s no reason why we can’t take back the Felson’s. I’ve got a few ideas…
1. Bring back Marcus. – I blame the increase in gel heads on the fact that he isn’t at the door anymore. He was the closest thing we had to a gel detector and now he’s gone. Marcus would look a gel head up and down, let the girl in for free, then charge the gel head $5 and watch the couple leave in disgust because they couldn’t afford it. Now there’s just some goofy white dude that lets in whoever walks through the door. I don’t feel like as much of a bad ass when I walk past a dorky white dude while entering the bar. I miss the days when I could show off my street cred by giving Marcus a fist pound and a “What up” head tilt while walking into the bar to get shit faced.
2. Only accept credit cards that belong to the customer’s parents – I don’t even think gel heads know who their parents are so they definitely don’t have access to their parents’ credit cards. I don’t blame the parents, if my kid were a gel-head I’d disown him too.
3. Reinstate the $5 cover for anyone looking common and not wearing at least $500 worth of clothing – Designer jeans and graphic t-shirts don’t count, everyone knows those shirts come from the same sweatshop that supplies Wal-Mart with their t-shirts.
I discussed some other ideas with my fellow ITB roommates Drew and Stephen, who weren’t very supportive.
Me: We should make the bartenders only serve people wearing “Drinkstrong” bracelets. That would definitely keep the gel heads out.
Drew: “Drinkstrong?” What the fuck are you talking about?
Me: I’ve explained this to you a million times, remember how popular those “Livestrong” bracelets were when Lance Armstrong went on that summer tour? We just need to make a similar bracelet and only give it to the people that deserve to be at Felson’s.
Drew: Those bracelets were to raise money to cure a horrible disease, and Lance Armstrong did not “go on tour”, he was a cyclist competing in the Tour de France.
Me: But gel heads are like a disease….
Stephen: Still, that’s a horrible idea.
Me: Well, what if we got someone to stand in the parking lot and not let gel head cars in? Like that kamikaze guy who stood in front of those tanks that one time.
Drew: Do you actually listen to the words that come out of your mouth?
If they’re going to shoot down every idea I have then I’ll just have to take back the Felson’s myself. For those of you who feel the same way, who have been hiding in the booths afraid to admit there are commoners among us, drinking until you can’t remember they were there, for those that wanted to take a stand against this vicious social crime, it’s time. It’s time to come together and take back the Felson’s. We must stop this molestation of our bar. It’s time to stand up and stumble over to the gel heads the next time you see them and tell them “No. Not tonight. Not ever. No means NO.” I feel it’s my duty to spearhead this effort, so I vow to keep you all informed with more updates of the progress being made to rid us of this disease. We must take back the Felson’s.