In Part 2 of the Tampa Trilogy, I encountered a 4-foot-9ish female employee at the Coyote Ugly bar. She was unbelievably hot, and I dubbed her Tyrion's Girlfriend. Charlie and I saw that she had two sugar daddies at the bar - one shady-looking character with a goatee and one who resembled the villain from CBS' Person of Interest. I was also hit on by at least one (possibly two) black dudes, one of whom invited me to smoke cigarettes with him. The number of black dudes who wanted to bang me was at least one (possibly two) more than the amount of women who hit on me. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I discussed my Wednesday and Thursday (July 3-4) in Tampa, but Friday was the craziest day yet. It all started with another trip to the beach...
Friday: Failed Beach Trip
The sky was pretty clear when I awakened, but by the time we were all ready to depart, a few ominous clouds appeared. That didn't stop us from driving down to Clearwater Beach, which was normally about 45 minutes away.
Unfortunately, we did not anticipate a ridiculous amount of traffic that was caused by road construction and a very confusing round-about that nearly caused a barrage of accidents. As we sat in traffic, the weather situation grew more and more dubious. It then started to pour. The rain was so heavy and relentless that it sounded like it was denting the car. It was too late to turn around, however, so once we arrived in Clearwater, we decided to wait out the storm in a restaurant called the Brown Boxer.
We sat outside under the canopy. Luckily, we were far enough away from the street that we weren't completely drenched when some a**hole decided to drive in the flooded lane. His wheels splashed the water everywhere, causing some of the patrons to get soaked. This poor woman in her 50s who was walking on the sidewalk while holding an umbrella didn't stand a chance. It was like a tidal wave hit her.
There was a hot blonde waitress at the Brown Boxer. She told us that she'd be right back to take our orders, but she must have determined that I was staring at her too creepily because another waitress emerged.
I perused the menu and decided that I wanted something that was a "Brown Boxer Specialty." I usually hate trying new things, but I was on vacation and figured that it was time to change things up. That's why I chose the chicken quesadilla (with cheese fries to balance it out). I've had chicken quesadillas before, but this one had something called "Caribbean sauce." I like all of my sandwiches dry - mustard, mayonnaise, mystery sauces disgust me - so I had to make sure.
Me: Hi, I want the chicken quesadillas, but what is this Caribbean sauce?
Waitress: Oh, it's just barbeque sauce and Ranch dressing mixed together.
Ugh. Why didn't they just say so? I love barbeque sauce and Ranch dressing, but I nearly decided against ordering it because I didn't know what this "Caribbean sauce" was. For all I knew, Caribbean sauce could've been splooge from a Caribbean immigrant whom the Brown Boxer had in one of its back rooms.
Speaking of back rooms, I wanted to go to take a piss prior to the food arriving. I walked into the main restaurant area, but didn't see any signs for the restroom. I asked an employee, a bearded guy in his 30s, and he told me to follow him. I walked behind him, and suddenly we were in the kitchen. This didn't seem like the right way to the bathroom, so I ducked out. I found another employee, a younger tan guy in his 20s.
Me: Excuse me, where's the bathroom?
Tan Guy: Right around the corner.
Me: OK... wait, which corner? There are three corners.
Tan Guy walked away before hearing my response. I was so completely lost that I decided to head for the kitchen again. That's when I bumped into Bearded Guy again.
Bearded Guy: You're not supposed to be here.
Me: You told me to follow you!
Bearded Guy: I didn't say that.
Me: Well, I'm looking for the bathroom.
Bearded Guy: Oh, ho, ho! It's right over there, around the corner.
Me: Wait, which corner?
Like Tan Guy, Bearded Guy stormed off without answering my question. I was THIS close to just saying "f*** it" and peeing in my pants right on the spot, but I used my last remaining energy to wander around aimlessly until I found the bathroom. It took me five minutes, but I finally located it. I've never urinated so joyfully.
I returned to the table, and I was happy to see that the food was already there. The quesadilla and the cheese fries were both amazing. They were a bit pricy - two quesadillas, the cheese fries, mozzarella sticks and three drinks came out to $63.50 - but the food was delicious. I highly recommend the Brown Boxer - just bring a compass so you don't get lost trying to find the bathroom.
Friday: Pre-Bar Shenanigans
The rain wasn't coming down as hard by the time we were finished eating, so we decided to wait it out some more. We killed time by walking around to some of the stores.
One shop that stood out in particular was Hogan's Beach Shop - a store dedicated just to Hulk Hogan. I kid you not. Here's the store's Web site if you don't believe me.
I was never a wrestling fan, but Charlie was, so he was in awe of this. I found some of the items there humorous. For example, a Hulk Hogan autographed baseball bat was available for purchase. Hulk Hogan was never a baseball player, so why did he autograph a bat? Even better, there was a Hulk Hogan audio book available. Hulk Hogan apparently wrote a book, so they made an audio version of it. It's one thing to read that book - he probably has some cool wrestling stories in there for all of the fans - but who in their right mind would listen to it on audio? That just seems so ridiculous to me(**).
(**) Despite saying this, I'm kind of upset that I didn't buy a Hulk Hogan t-shirt or something. I'm not a fan, but this was the only store of its kind in the world. In fact, I have the urge to buy a t-shirt from that Web site... No, I don't even like wrestling, so why would I do that? But it's still so unique... Can't help... Trying to resist... Gagh...
Bam. Just bought a red Hulk Hogan t-shirt. A waste of $27 (with shipping), no doubt, but I just had to do it. With that in mind, maybe I should buy the audio book too. But that would be a waste... but so unique... must... fight... urge...
Anyway, there were two female employees working at the Hulk Hogan store. The one who was just OK saw that Amanda was carrying her four-pound poodle in her bag. She then summoned the other worker - a hot blonde - to come check out the dog. Afterward, Amanda commented about how lots of girls come up to her to admire her dog. She also said that Charlie was a chick magnet when he had two casts on his arms after breaking them in a weightlifting accident the previous summer.
This gave me an excellent idea. I'm going to wear a cast on one arm and carry a poodle around in the other. Every single hot woman will stop and talk to me. That's when I'll seal the deal with this line: "I got the cast in Afghanistan. This dog saved my life by pulling me out of a terrorist trap. My arm's going to heal soon though, so I'll be going back to Afghanistan with my trusty dog when that happens." Is there a single female on this planet who wouldn't bang a dude if he said that? I need to put this plan into action before more black dudes hit on me.
At any rate, the rain didn't relent, so Charlie drove us back to his house. Amanda told us that her female friend would meet us out at the bars tonight. Finally, a chick who would almost be forced to talk to me!
Charlie, Amanda and I relaxed until it was time to go back to Ybor, which I previously described as "a strip of tons of bars, restaurants and night clubs. The women here were even more scantily clad than in the other place. We saw the chick in the black thong in Ybor." The chick with the black thong was actually present on this night. We sat down outside of a restaurant called the Stone Soup Company, which had awesome Cuban sandwiches.
We placed our orders when it happened - the girl with the black thong walked by. I know what you're going to ask - was she hot? Absolutely. She had a great body. I stared in awe as she walked up to a guy. They had about a 30-second conversation when she walked around and headed back in our direction. I finally got to see her face, and it looked like she was crying. I thought about abandoning my friends and comforting her, but she crossed the street and walked right into a wall. She then leaned against the building and began talking to a bearded bum.
Me: Man, she's hot.
Amanda: I think she's a prostitute.
Me: Meh, still hot.
A police car eventually pulled up to Thong Girl. The cop got out of his vehicle and started questioning the girl. Meanwhile, our focus shifted over to the other side of the street where the aforementioned bum was now lying on the sidewalk in front of a bar. A big guy I presumed to be a bouncer was looking down and talking to him, but the bum wouldn't budge. He remained in that position for about 10 minutes until someone brought him a beverage of some sort.
Bums normally scare the crap out of me - they have nothing to lose and are actually awarded with better living conditions and health care if they commit a crime and are sent to prison - but I felt sorry for this particular fellow. I imagine he passed out in the street because he asked Thong Girl how much she charged, and he became unbelievably depressed when he realized he couldn't afford it.
Friday: The Serial Killer and the Dance-Bang Girl
We met up with Amanda's friend and some other guy at Double Decker, which was more crowded this evening. Amanda's friend was pretty damn hot. She was a brunette with nice legs who was wearing this tight black dress. Unfortunately, the guy who was also there was someone she was interested in.
We had some drinks and took some pictures before walking across the street to Coyote Ugly. I saw Tyrion's Girlfriend again - this time she was working behind the bar. She looked even better in her Coyote Ugly uniform. If you want to see what she looks like, check out the Tampa Coyote Ugly Facebook page and scroll down to May 13 (**). Her name is Kirsten, though her hair is apparently black now.
(**) You can see the four prominent Coyote Ugly bartenders here. I have to say that I'm disappointed in their interests:
Ride roller coasters
Going to the beach
Be with my friends
Not exactly the most complex people. Where's "read books" and "ponder philosophical things" and "look forward to Jerks of the Week every Monday?" Come on, ladies.
Oh, and I love the pervy Facebook comments that people left under their pictures like:
I'm liking her> I might have to come visit that cutie
Beuutiful young lady!
oooo nikki lookin good....
Is she available for dates? Legit ones.
Legit ones? If there are legit dates, are there illegit dates? What is an illegit date? Can I go on an illegit date? Sounds kinky.
The coolest thing about Coyote Ugly is that they do these choreographed dances. I know I sound heterosexually challenged by saying that, but the dance that Tyrion's Girlfriend and another bartender did to Bodies by Drowning Pool was one of the coolest things I've ever seen. They were fake punching one another and then humping and licking each other. I would seriously pay to watch it again.
Meanwhile, Amanda's friend was a sunk cost. I tried talking to her a bit, but A) it was too loud and B) she wasn't having it because she was too into that other guy. Speaking of that guy, he disappeared for extended periods of the night. No one knew where he kept going at first. Amanda called him a "serial killer," which I thought was hilarious.
We eventually learned that Serial Killer went over to the pool tables. By himself. He just stood there and watched others play pool. Amanda also noticed that he would occasionally text on his phone. So, he was out with this super-hot chick, yet he was more interested in texting someone else and watching others play pool? Didn't Amanda's friend sense that something was wrong with this situation?
Serial Killer got to play pool about an hour later. After finishing his game, he walked back over to us, with Amanda's friend staring at him lovingly. What he said to me really pissed me off.
Amanda's Friend: Let's go to the next baaar!
Serial Killer: OK cool, let's go.
Me: Wait, I just ordered a drink.
Serial Killer: Hurry the hell up, man. We're waiting for you.
Wow, what a dick. This guy abandoned all four of us the entire time we were at Coyote Ugly, yet he still had the audacity to tell me to hurry up with my drink because he wanted to go somewhere else? What a piece of s***.
I have the urge to quote what I wrote in my Attack of the White Trash Brigade entry - women tend to be complete fools when it comes to guys. They just don't know a good thing when they see it. They'll leave a positive situation for no logical reason and constantly fall into the same traps over and over again, quite possibly because of a lack of self-esteem, which is usually completely inexplicable - but it ultimately doesn't even matter. I said Amanda's friend was a sunk cost for more than one reason. She emphasized the final syllable of each other sentences. This itself wasn't bad, but when that's combined with some of the things she said throughout the night, she sounded completely stupid. For example:
All I wanna do is daaaance! All I wanna do is baaaaang! Wooooo!
I wanna be pregnant in two yeeeeeears!
I put my p***y on a pedestaaaaaaal!
Every bar is discriminatiiiiiing!
My name's Mary Silverooooooock!
What's funny about the final quote is that she got her name wrong. I'm using an alias here, but she said that her name was Mary Silverrock when it was something like Mary Silverfort. As you can tell, she's not the sharpest bulb in the toolbox.
I eventually finished my drink - with some more harassment from Serial Killer - and we went over to the next bar, an Irish place that resembled a coffee shop more than anything else. Upon walking through the door, some guy in the corner shouted, "Yo, Game of Thrones!" and rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a direwolf - the sigil of House Stark in the book series/TV show.
This may seem weird, but I forgot to mention that I was wearing a Game of Thrones t-shirt. This dude and I discussed the books for a good 15 minutes. As we were doing this, a plain-looking Puerto Rican girl with braces listened intently and continuously interjected. She had never read the books or seen the show, but she kept mimicking me or saying, "Oh that's interesting!"
She was super into me. I hate to say that and sound conceited, but she made it extremely obvious. Other than mimicking me, she repeatedly told me that I was hot. She also said something like "Wow that's soooo cool, Mr. Boss Man" when I told her I was visiting my employee in Tampa. I didn't game her because of her braces, but this at least taught me that I don't need to get a cast or buy a dog. I can just say that I own a company and have employees. Well, maybe I can do that with a cast on just in case.
I eventually rejoined my friends who were sitting at a table. I had the misfortunate of sitting next to Serial Killer, who pointed out some attractive girls to me outside.
Serial Killer: Go to talk to those girls.
Me: By myself? There are three of them.
Serial Killer: That's the right time to do it! Girls are stupid and follow a herd mentality. If one thinks you're hot, she'll say it and then the other two will think you're hot. It only takes one to find you attractive, and then you're in!
Serial Killer: Yeah! Just don't go after the fat one. I know, it's the oldest trick in the book, but girls have caught on. Don't even talk to the fat one if there is one.
Me: Huh... I didn't know that all girls caught on to this trick.
Serial Killer: Yeah, they all have. So, you gonna go talk to them, or should I?
Serial Killer: Yeah, I'm gonna go talk to them right now.
And just like that, Serial Killer abandoned his date to game some girls who were standing outside. Dance-Bang Girl, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to the situation. In fact, she told Amanda that she was thinking about moving to St. Louis with Serial Killer despite only knowing him for two months. Amanda looked like she wanted to smack Dance-Bang Girl upside the head for being so ridiculous.
Serial Killer returned about five minutes later. He struck out.
Serial Killer: Those girls were all married.
Me: That sucks.
Serial Killer: They did say you and I were cute though.
Me: Me? How'd they see me?
Serial Killer: I pointed through the window. Oh well. Maybe there will be more girls to talk to at the next bar.
Me: Let's hope so.
Serial Killer: Man, you're so lucky. You're a free man down here. I have the whole ball and chain going on tonight.
"The whole ball and chain?" He said this with his date sitting right next to him! They've only been seeing each other for two months, and yet she's already a "whole ball and chain?" And she wants to move to St. Louis with this scumbag and then have his child in two years? Jesus.
We left the Irish bar and then went to some crazy club that had real trees inside the building and actual small rivers flowing through the bar. It was pretty cool. The bartender, a muscular Mexican woman, made us an awesome drink that resembled a chocolate milkshake. It contained chocolate vodka, smores vodka and two other things I can't recall.
I just chilled by the bar, talked to Charlie and Amanda and listened to the absurd things Dance-Bang Girl was saying (it was at this point that she confused her name). Serial Killer, once again, disappeared for a long stretch of time. He returned after about a 30-minute absence and approached me. "Are those people more your type?" he asked, pointed over toward the wall.
I looked over and saw two built dudes grinding with each other. No, wait... there were also two dudes kissing... and there were two girls holding hands... and the muscular woman bartender... no... I WAS IN A GAY CLUB!
I felt the sudden urge to bolt out of there. Not that I'm against gay clubs or anything - there's certainly nothing wrong with them - but if the black guy who wanted to smoke cigarettes with me saw me there, my a**hole might have been done for.