Kicked Out

So, I can say in all honestly, i have never been been kicked out of any bar, pub, or club in my life... 

...up until tonight.

The worst part is, i have no reason to have been evicted from the place I was at.  To prove my point; this is the first SSC entry I have done on the same night as the story goes.

So it was one of our exchange students here in Sweden friend's birthday.  Which to me means, celebrate not only at the party, but as we know at the "pre-pre-party".  So I showed up a bit "decent" to the b-day party.  This was about the time for us to ride our bikes across town to the pub/club we were going to visit.  I immediately get there and order a drink; since the bike ride had temporarily killed my buzz.  We all started dancing and having a wonderful time switching off between the dance floor downstairs and the traditional pub atmosphere of the upstairs area.  

At one point of me heading downstairs again to dance the night away I go to order a drink.  

Apparently, I was too drunk to do so, which is just straight fucked up since I can still write this entry hours later.

So in my head I firgure "fuck it; I'll go upstairs and get a cider."  

For those of you not in Europe; a cider at a bar is around 4.5% alcohol, so clearly it can't do that much damage to me.  So I figure "Why not go upstairs and fix my needs?"

Someone downstairs had apparently assumed I was "too drunk and needed to be cut off", so as I order this baby-ass cider; a guard walks up and tells the bartender that I am cut-off.  

To me this makes no sense.  I haven't caused any problems and am not nearly as drunk as I am the usual time I am (or my friends are) on a usual night this this place.  But as a non-confrontational individual; I agree to their decision and go downstairs to dance some more.

So I groove for a while and start to feel the need for another "kick" to assist me.

As soon as I walk to the bar, 2 giant men confront me and ask me to "follow them to the exist."

I realize I am being kicked out.  I have no clue why; but as a little guy; I'm not gonna cause any problems.  I pull out my coat-check number, receive my jacket and head towards my bike.

Now I will admit, I am pretty drunk (not kicked out of the venue drunk; but still fairly gone), so I call my friend to ask where we parked.  I soon find my bike, admit my defeat and start traveling home.  Half way through the ride, my bike starts acting funny.  The next thing I know; the chain completely screws up, falls off its router, and I'm stuck alone in the middle of god-knows-where.  I try to fix the chain a few times then call my friend (still enjoying himself back at the bar) trying to see if I can get a verbal instruction on fixing my bike.  Which, of course, doesn't happen.  So for the last half of the 3 miles home, I'm drunk-walking my bike home praying a cop doesn't see me wobble and put me in the drunk tank.  

Luckily, I made it home.  The shit that sucks is I'm here, only slightly under-the-influence, writing a story that may have been epic if I had ended up at the place of some female; but instead, it's just the upset drunk grumbling of a 21 year old in Sweden who isn't "Stockholm Swingers'"-ing it like he did back home.  

The point being; clearly, if I can write this entire story without effort (for the record, spell/gammer check was unneeded) and still get ousted before a noteworthy story can be written; there is a reason I was meant to live in Las Vegas.  Hopefully, I can fulfill my reputation as the "Stockholm Swinger" ASAP; otherwise; I'm straight up fucked.

Well I'm off to have a cigarette.  Hopefully you enjoyed my tale of fucking up.  I know I didn't; but that's half the point of this blog.  Right?