Saturdare

Saturdays in Bristol can be a lot like Sundays through Friday without you even realizing it. You do the same thing, minus the eight hour workday (if you have that type of "job") and then you got to bed.
So, we have decided that we should mix it up a little and created Saturdare, It's starting out small, but the plan is to do something stupid or ridiculous or just plain purposeless. Try to catch people off guard or catch each other off guard. We're starting out with baby steps to build our confidence up and our desire to actual waste tie in this manner.

SATURDARE 1
There's a really awful club in town called South Beach. All the locals head there on weekends for loud and annoying music, fat girls dancing, and skinny guys watching. They put on their best or just whatever they've been wearing all week and line up to get past the crew cut door dude. This is where Polly and I decided to make our presence known in Bristol.


So, we dressed ourselves nice. Or more like nice, old people, assuring us entrance because we looked fancy. Then we headed out the door.


We made it to the club a few minutes later ready to party with Ricky Bobby. We are pretty sure it was the same one from the Will Ferrell movie, but truthfully, there could have been a real Ricky Bobby in there.


We got ready to wait in line to get in the club. It was ladies night there and I figured we'd have to wade through the crowd of them to get in. However, we stood about eight deep of very party ready dudes. One of which was underage and held a slight resemblance to McLovin. Although he was not using a fake ID and got in with a Sharpie X on his hand. Party on, McLovin.
We began dreading entering this club immediately. I asked the bruiser at the door if there was a cover for ladies. He said what I thought to hear him say "Not for the regulars". So, I answered back, "Well, she's a regular lady". He didn't see the humor or understand me and checked our out-of-state IDs. Polly got cleared for free entrance but I was told I would need to pay a cash cover charge. Having no cash, and feeling a little relieved, we decided it best to leave. But we didn't get out of the parking lot before two more dudes (ladies night) passed us, just looking at us in disbelief of our out o' style for south beach clothes. He even said "Wow" as he passed. He's probably waking up in a pool of his own vomit this morning.




Not ready to give up on the saturday night life, we headed downtown to New York on 5th. This newish little bar on 5th Street, but obviously not in New York. We were able to get in, and it was way more packed than it was last fall. We stayed around for as long as we could handle, watching folks swig down Miller Lites and grind dance to Wagon Wheel on the dance floor. We were both excited to meet new people in Bristol as the photos clearly show. We did decide that this would be a fun place to goof off if we were with about four other friends and the people in the bar were friendlier and we actually wanted to be out.


We made it back home before curfew, a little glad that we made ourselves go out and a little disappointed that we didn't get to party with Ricky Bobby or dance with fat girls or have a mountain man get a phone number.

There's always next Saturdare...