Since I haven't been doing much lately due to my back injury, I'm forced to continue telling stories that, for some reason, I've never written about before. This one goes back a few years to when I first moved to Las Vegas.
It was my first summer here, and I was beginning to realize the increased opportunity I had for seeing bands in concert compared to where I'd previously lived. Silentkid (aka, Rural Murder)called one day to say that he and another friend were coming to town to see Pearl Jam play at the MGM Grand. I told him that they could stay at my place, and that a few more of us might be interested in getting tickets. Five of us ended up going. The concert was great.
After the show we decided to grab a bite to eat before leaving the MGM, so we went and got a table at one of the cafes. While we ate, the guy who came to town with Silentkid started telling us a story about a time when he was in northern Nevada doing some field work for his dissertation research. He was a herpetologist who studied rattlesnakes, and was stuck killing some time in a small town while he waited for the right time of day for the snakes to come out at his field site. He was sitting on a park bench, and a guy came up and started talking to him. This man talked to him for quite a while, basically giving him his life story. He had survived colon cancer, but wasn't quite out of the woods yet. At some point, the man reached into his coat and pulled out a colostomy bag to show my friend.
Friend: Now, I don't want to sound like an asshole, but I'd just met this guy like an hour before. At what point does he feel close enough to me to show me a bag full of his shit?
We all laughed.
Apparently this didn't sit well with some girls at the table next to us. One of them came over, grabbed a bottle of catsup in some weird display of animosity. (I think we were supposed to be like, "Oh no! She just took our catsup. What do we do? What do we do?")
Her (as she swiped the bottle): You guys are assholes. I just want to let you know that you're really fucking rude. You're sitting here making fun of people with cancer without even worrying about whether people who could hear you might have been affected by it.
I opened my mouth to offer up an apology, and maybe explain that we weren't making fun of cancer per se, just the fact that this guy thought it appropriate to show off his colostomy bag, but before I did, the guy who had told us the story responded to her. He was slightly less diplomatic than I had planned on being.
Him: I'm sorry, was I talking to you?
Her: No, but it's kind of hard to ignore you when you're being so loud.
Him: Well, I suggest you find a way.
Him (to us, but loud enough for her to hear): What a bitch!
The girls paid their bill and left. I felt bad that we'd offended them, but it was kind of funny.
I should point out that my friend was rather drunk at the time. This was made evident to us later as we walked through the casino and we tried to get him to follow us.
Friend (to him): Over here. We've got to go this way.
Him: I'll be there in a second. Right after I'm done staring at this girl's enormous tits.
This was said right in front of the girl as she walked by, and he practically stuck his face in her cleavage. Surprisingly, she didn't slap him.