So Saturday found me bored, sitting in the corner of the unusually Hip Hop filled bar of the Cha Cha with D; one less of our trash talk trifecta, the 3rd who was joining later…At any rate, sitting at the bar, having D wrinkle her OCD nose at the fact I was nursing my cocktail, we took a break from the lively mocking of misguided Seattleite attire for the evening to discuss the infamous “Seattle Freeze”. The theory that the fine people of this city are that of cold hearted superior asshats that don’t want to give you courtesy, the time of day, or the spit out of their own mouth to save you from thirst in the Sahara.
Now, I didn’t think this legend was particularly true, as I have a hard time making nice and meeting people in the first place; shocking, but true. I didn’t realize the Freeze was actual until I became single, at which point I noticed it wasn’t so much a freeze as it was people were just fucking passive. I’m thinking it’s the lack of vitamin D from the lack of sun filling up them up with joy joy joy; where? Down in their hearts.
So as I’m sitting at the Cha Cha, I decide to conduct a little social experiment to make the night a little more entertaining (by that point, the clothing choices had become a little ridiculous and sad-who wears an off the shoulder orange mesh top with a pink lame Rizzo jacket?). So I started introducing myself with a handshake, to random strangers that came into range of my monkey arm length reach, just to see how they would react.
Me: “Hi, I’m Melissa!” (This would become my power play opener of the night)
V1: I’m Joel
Me: beg pardon?
Me: It’s nice to meet you!
V1: I just got out of a 4 year relationship…
Me: I wasn’t-no, I was just being nice. Um, wow, I’m sorry dude
V1: it’s ok, it ended on a good note and we’re still friends its fine
By this point, several people were trying to bypass the bar line to get service, at which the tender was turning them away
Me: Hi, I'm Melissa!
V2: nice to meet you (no name given)
Me: (undaunted) the bartender has been telling people to wait in line; I don’t know if you’ll have much luck (big cheesy smile)
V2: Oh, well, I work here, I figured he would. I’ll go to the other side to get help (and thus he sprints off, I presume, frightened but proceeds to stare at me with coworker; great, I’m back in high school)
Victim #3, 4, 5
V3: (to V4) I have to piss, order me a drink (I fail to introduce myself)
V4: (whines) I don’t KNOOOOW what to get him
Me: get him a shot of tekillya!!
V5: that’s racist. You assume because he’s Mexican, he’ll want tequila?!
Me: touché fucker, but I suggested it because we’re in a Mexican themed bar
V5: (says something else, trying to be clever about being half Pilipino/white and his right to being racist-blah blah blah; at this point I start to lose interest in him)
Me: Hi, I’m Melissa! (To both)
V4: I’m Holly!
V5: I’m Ryan
(Friend returns, I ignore and turn back to D)
Victim #6. Not really a victim, as he’s the bartender and his earned tricks are based off of his ass kissing personality.
Me: What’s your name?!
Me: thanks for treating us to great service-PEACE OUT!
New bar, one last victim and the 3rd member to the trifecta, Anna, has arrived. Now, the last victim was by far the friendliest, but I’m guessing it’s because he was gay, and I’m not meaning in just the homosexual way, but in the intended way of the word’s roots, to be happy; cause fuck all, if he wasn’t one happy and friendly dude.
V7: I’m Chad!
And with that, he stayed and chatted with our table about chlorine, hair and a whole butt load of other stuff I can’t remember because it was close to last call and I was becoming quite sleepy with a tummy full of vodka and bad sushi.
I will conduct more tests, as this forces me not to sit in the corner with a “don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-carrying-Ninja-Stars-in-my-bra” look. And who knows, perhaps I will meet some new friends and end up with some crazy stories of pants pooping, cheesy domino's tattoos, puking and bar fights to share with my children someday