Wednesday was my little sister’s 21st birthday, so of course she did what everyone else does when they turn 21, decided to throw herself a big ass party for the sole purpose of getting hammered. I could respect that. So a week or so before her birthday I get a Facebook event invite for her “Birthday Bash” starting on Thursday at 10:45pm. There’s like 64 other people on this invite list, how the hell are you even gonna have time to talk to all them? First off, didn’t think kids used Facebook anymore, but evidently they do. Second, don’t these kids have school on Fridays. I gotta work and this is already past my bedtime. A Saturday at 6pm seems much more suitable to enjoy a night out with some friends. Not thrilled that this thing’s at a club on Chippewa either. Chippewa is a street full of bars in Buffalo that you may recognize from the song Comin’ to Your City by Big & Rich, “and Chippewa’s where we go, when we’re up in Buffalo”. Well, in 2004 when that song was released it might’ve been a good destination, but now its a gross cesspool of everyone that I want nothing to do with. The last (and I believe only) time I was down there was to go to a bar that went out of business since it was too classy for the rest of the area (shout out The Lodge). Also, the last club I was in on a different street in Buffalo, no longer exists either.
Anyways, I decided to be nice and head downtown for this party around 10:30 at night. Wonderful. Say hello, have two drinks and I’m out, I gotta be in bed by midnight.
I hate parking downtown but actually had a pretty easy time finding a spot to park my truck, which is way nicer than every other car in the area that late in the middle of a weeknight. I take a brisk walk to this place expecting to just stroll in and order a drink. Boy was I wrong. I get to the door and there’s a gigantic line of what looks like all underage kids waiting to get in this place. I text my sister to find out what the deal is and if she’s there yet and she tells me that her party busses that she booked just got there. Great, so I gotta sit in line and waste my time with all these children. Just how I wanted to spend my night. Also, it’s apparently 18+ night so that explains why all these kids that look like they just rolled out of high school are sitting here. Not thrilled with that news. I find out from the kid in front of me in line that there’s no cover if you say you were on the party bus. Kinda shocked there’s even a cover here. We’re in Buffalo, not New York City or Vegas. Glad the kid told me though cause now a little lie to this bouncer that absolutely hates his life right now saves me $10. Sweet. I give the kid a handshake and as he feebly shakes mine I realize how soft kids are becoming now a days. They don’t even know how to shake hands properly. The world’s gonna be fucked when this generation has to become functioning members of society.
25 minutes later, I finally get into this bar that’s blasting shitty house music of garbage pop song remixes. They actually play a bad remix of All the Small Things by blink-182 but this remix is definitely not something that Tom Delonge and Mark Hoppus would approve, don’t fuck with a classic. This place smells like a mix of Hollister and regret. I forgot that college kids don’t use real cologne and are still on the whole Axe trend, cause there’s ads for that on Instagram and it’s cheap for their broke asses. I feel like a dinosaur and for sure one of, if not the oldest person in this club (I’m not that old). Even though this place is packed pretty much wall to wall, I quickly find my sister and buy her a birthday shot and get myself a drink. Cheaper than I expected, two shots of Deep Eddy Lemon and a Tito’s and soda only costs me $15. Great, at least I don’t gotta break the bank. A majority of the rest of the people in this place are drinking these giant fishbowls that look like immense heartburn in a plastic container. I didn’t bring an entire bottle of Tums with me, so I’ll gladly pass on that. I was happy to see that the floors in this place were actually pretty clean so at least my Jordan’s weren’t getting as dirty as I expected them too. Saves me the effort of having to clean them the next day.
Before I head out of the club after finishing my drink, I maneuver my way through a crowd that’s packed shoulder to shoulder to the only bathrooms in this place to take a quick leak. To get into this men’s bathroom there’s a line of around 10 college kids who don’t seem to grasp how lines work. Just stand there and wait your turn and it’ll move in a quick order. Don’t stand in a clump like a bunch of idiots. Once I’m in there I see that there’s one toilet stall that smells like vomit and two urinals. The one pisser is broken and completely filled but these dumb ass kids don’t care and continue to pee in it. I’m actually hoping one of them slips to prove how dumb they are. Half these kids don’t even wash their hands. Disgusting. I wait for the functioning one and quickly get out of that horrid place.
Outside in the fresh air, there’s a bum picking cigarette butts off the road and lighting them up. This is what you have to deal with on the streets of Buffalo at 1am. As I’m walking to my truck some other clown wearing a nice Nike backpack and eating McDonald’s asks me for some cash for the bus. Fuck outta here, you’re clearly not broke.
I get to my truck and take a leisurely drive home on the empty roads. After I get off the Thruway as I’m getting closer to home, I end up behind a crappy Hyundai with vanity plates on it that say Mrs. Cena. Yeah girl, I’m sure you’re exactly what John Cena wants in a wife. I’ve never even seen you but I could already tell by the fact that you’re old enough to have a car, yet are still are obsessed with a fake wrestling star and paid for vanity plates to show it to the world in possibly the shittiest brand of car there is. I’m sure you made some great life choices up to now. This is what’s on the road at 1:14 am on a Thursday night.
I need to go to bed.
Happy Birthday to my sister. Thanks for the blog content.