No Skank You

At 4:30 in the morning, Ryan and I sat on a bench outside of a Vegas hotel, unwinding after a long night. A taxi pulled up, and two assholes spilled out and bummed cigarettes from Ryan. One is a fratty, privileged douche who shares characteristics with most 80s teen movie antagonists, and the other is his tagalong friend who is probably nice at heart, but is too busy trying to be cool by association for it to matter.

Douche: You boys have a good night?
Me: Yup
Ryan: Yeah, how about you?
Douche: I'm having a great night, I love Vegas. I come here every single month, this is the life!
Me: Every month? [I already have him pegged as such, but anyone who visits Vegas that regularly is soulless and disgusting.]
Douche: Yup, always get a room at this hotel. Except usually I bring a couple skanks back with me.

I forget the specifics of the next couple minutes of conversation too much to try to quote it, but the gist was the douche bragging about how much sex he gets with skanks. Of course, he didn't bring anyone home now, but this was the EXCEPTION. I couldn't care less, but he really wanted us to be impressed by his skank-magnetism. I noticed Ryan starting to flinch at each mention of the word "skank," which he used extensively and exclusively, as if he had never even heard of the word "woman." Then again, it's probably safe to assume that he only has successful interactions with legitimate skanks, so maybe he's just calling 'em like he sees 'em.

Douche-Wannabe: Hey, you guys seem cool.
Me: Thanks... [I wasn't about to return the compliment; I figured douche-wannabe was just impressed that we could tolerate his friend longer than most, but then I realized he had an ulterior motive.]
Douche-Wannabe: Yeah, I know we just met, and no homo [ughhhhhh], but it might be cool if we hung out and smoked a bowl? Do you have any pot?
Me: Nope.
Douche: How 'bout cocaine?
Me: No, we're all out of drugs... [making an addendum before they fish for another invitation] and alcohol, too.
Douche-Wannabe: Damn, okay, would have been fun.
Me: [if I sounded more sincere than sarcastic, I deserve an award] Yeah, too bad.
Douche: C'mon, let's go.
Douche-Wannabe: I've got to pack and shower before my flight in an hour anyway.
Douche: And I have to go call that Russian skank.

As crappy as these people are, I usually feel thankful after an encounter like this one. Thankful that no matter how many people like this I meet, I do not count a single one of them as my friends. Thankful that I don't conform to the behaviors of many of my same-aged peers and have to suck at life to have fun. Thankful that, even though I know those guys walked away thinking they were better than us, deep down I know I'm better than them. Good luck with the drugs and skanks, assholes.