| rev:text
| - I wrote this review while wasted.. After a night at Nashville North.
Nashville North: I'm afraid I just don't get it. I mean we all grew up with it, so it's business as usual to us, and it's so busy everyone thinks "this place has to be unreal", but if you were an immigrant with no previous idea of Western culture, you would have to think "these people are fucking retarded".
I am gonna do my best to sum up my personal Nashville North experience. I jump in line. Line waiting is the most buzz killing activity known to man. You're squished in like a Mexican prisoner, but, unlike Mexican prison, you can't just piss on the floor and walk away. Nope after hours of pre drinking, you gotta hold it in and experience the battle of mind versus body. Your liquor wares off and you're stuck with this shared feeling of boredom among your friends. The only thing worse than a solo boredom is a team boredom, and THE LINE TAKES UP TO TWO AND A HALF HOURS!!! THAT'S A FUCKING LORD OF THE RINGS MOVIE - STANDING IN LINE! DOING NOTHING!
But finally, you get to the front. You walk in the building and this unpleasant smell hits you like a stun grenade in Modern Warfare 3. You try and figure out what it is until you realize: "Oh yeah... It's chundy. Yep.. Chundy mixed with just a pinch of sweaty wanna-be cowboys that said "I don't care if it's 30 degrees outside and probably 35 in here, I'm rocking jeans and a flannel! WOOOO GO NASHVILLE!"
The country music is blaring. I understand a lot of people like it, and most do during Stampede, but it's just not for me. I feel that when I'm out partying, I want to listen to something high energy, something you can't help but bob your head to. I'm here to have fun, and quite frankly, I don't wanna hear about how you got back from Iraq, your buddy died, your wife left you, you became an alcoholic, you crashed your truck into a handicapped kid and the worst part - the truck has a huge dent in it now. Give me Lil Jon repeating the same three sentences the entire song and going "YEAYA" and I'm good to go for the rest of the night.
You walk up to the bar and see the sign: $6.50 - Budweiser. Do I get a free handjob with my beverage? Who's making these rules? My Jewish friend bought a drink and had to go home twenty minutes later because of a panic attack. Perhaps I didn't pay enough attention, but from what I could see, there were two types of shooters available: "Sex on the Beach" or "Strawberry Tequila". What is this, the junior high school mixer? Even a 10 year old would call you a pussy for taking a shot like that as a man.
Anyways, I played the game. I bought drinks, I hung out, I two stepped with my friends (which probably looked about as devastating as a baby seal getting clubbed. I decked at least two random chicks in the face while trying to twirl my partner. I'm not even kidding). I sang along to country music and hung out in the smoke pit. At one point, my shorts got absolutely soaked by what I thought was a guy spilling his drink on me. I pushed him onto his bum and he ran away. I didn't realize until I got home and took my shorts off to discover brown chunks, that nope, it wasn't a drink. Homeboy threw up all over me. I was furious.
After two hours, I'd had enough. I convinced some of my friends to go check out some rides. What better idea when you're wasted right? I hopped on the Fireball, sat down in the seat, and already started getting the spinnies. This was a terrible idea, and I knew I was gonna regret it, but there was no way I was jumping off the ride with a 9 year old followed by a bunch of hot chicks sitting behind me. It was a downward spiral from the moment the ride took off, with me holding my mouth and my friend Jake pushing my face in the other direction and screaming "DON'T YOU DO IT! DON'T YOU DO IT!!!" When the ride would go upside down he would scream "JUST DO IT NOW, THEN IT WON'T HIT US!". I got off the ride and projectile vomited $70 worth of liquor instantaneously. This was too much for me.
I got on the train and headed home. And that was my night at Nashville North.
The End
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