The Crutch

Margarita Mondays has gotten wild as of late. Though our group used to be responsible for the antics, since our numbers have dwindled from forty to a handful, other parties have taken the helm. Recently, the restaurant began hosting karaoke on Mondays, which has brought in a whole new sloppy drunk crowd. It's hard to resist singing and strong $2 margaritas.

If you know me, you know I'm a big fan of karaoke, but it's not a good experience here. Everyone is so awful that it is unpleasant. Sure, karaoke is generally notoriously amateur, but there is really nothing redeemable about the performances. I'm glad that when I do go, we sit outside where we can't hear it.

When it got unbearably cold, however, we went indoors to finish our drinks and did our best to ignore the singers. It was hard to overlook an especially loud group of three bros, however. After performing an adequate (granted, we're grading on a curve, here) rendition of Sublime's "Santaria," I heard them become animated about something and they pushed each other with excitement. "Really? Really?! Okay! I'll do it! I'll do it! Let's go!" I figured they were discussing some questionable next karaoke song choice, but didn't stick around to see their decision.

My party went outside at that point to part ways, but not long after, the bros came sprinting from the restaurant too. "WE'RE GOING TO VEGAS!" one of them shouted. Amused, I told them to have fun. "Wanna come?!" another one asked, but we declined that offer. "Well wish us luck!" he said, which I did with surprising sincerity. I love random acts of Vegas, and know I have been in the same situation on at least a few Margarita Mondays where we're all the sudden drunk enough to think that going to Vegas late on a Monday night is a great idea. Ultimately, we've never followed through, however, because A) no one is in a condition to drive B) we don't have a hotel room and won't arrive until post-midnight at least and C) everyone has jobs or Tuesday obligations they can't disregard. I think this group of bros should have considered some of these consequences, particularly letter A, but I admired their impulsive enthusiasm.

They hopped in their car and kept shouting as they peeled out of the parking lot. As they screeched by, I jumped onto the curb afraid they might hit me. Simultaneously, Melissa went into teacher mode, as she yelled, "Wait, you left your crutch!" I had no idea what she meant since I had been so busy avoiding the car, but there was really a crutch now next to us in the parking lot that hadn't been there before. I asked how it got there, and Melissa said it fell out of the car window.

Either that was a drunken decision that someone is going to regret by the time they get to Vegas or just a drunken accident that wasn't noticed; either way, it was amusing to see how legitimately concerned Melissa was, even if only momentarily, that they wouldn't be able to have a good time in Vegas without their crutch. The mere sight of the single abandoned crutch was a riot and I couldn't stop laughing at their inebriated disregard for the disabled. We waited around in case they should return for the crutch, but that didn't pan out, so Lady Garza decided to take it home as a souvenir.

The next morning, Greg texted me to say that Melissa saw kids playing with the crutch on the road between the restaurant and the nearby school. I had to correct him that Lady Garza had taken the crutch, so the crutch Melissa saw was likely the other one of the pair. Did they throw that one out the window, too? It's like, dudes, even if you're lucky in Vegas, that means you win money, not the ability to walk.

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