Oh My.

Two nights ago I went to a show. This is one of "those" stories, where the most impressive part is that is not titled "Arrest Story Part 3". Enjoy:

The show was at Bar Guess, locally famous for their literal buckets of long island ice tea you can buy for the low low price of 9 bucks:

When I entered the club I noticed this Korean bartender who I had previously had a crush on when she worked at Urban (same girl as the post where I got my coat back). I talked to her for awhile, and after she asks how strong my bucket is, she offers to put even more liquor in. Refusing would of course be impolite, so I allow it and she comes back with a drink that's barely, well, drinkable.

Soon after I've got a good buzz going, the band takes the stage. They're called King Kahn & BBQ, and according to Wikipedia they are blacklisted in Montreal for their crazy live shows. Surely these fellas couldn't be capable:

The frontman with the belly is King Kahn, the guy in back on rhythm guitar, backup vocals, and bass drums is BBQ.

The show was good, the band was more punk than I thought they'd be (and even started a song with the Misfits "Attitude" intro) and King Kahn would come into the crowd and rub up on girls and periodically ask for White Russians. After a few songs the bartender comes up to me in the front and hands me a free gin and tonic, for reasons unknown and awesome.

However, just as I'm almost done with my long island, King Kahn decides to ratchet up his crazy cred, and kicks the bucket out of my hands and onto my shirt. Later, I get clocked in the head with his guitar neck, but I think that might have been more accidental.

Still later I notice King Kahn telling BBQ what songs to play, and BBQ not appearing to know the songs and generally getting pissed off. At the end of the show Kahn announces they have 2 songs left, and BBQ just up and leaves the stage, letting Kahn play 1 more song and then pack it in.

At this point, the coworker I'm with and I decide to head to another bar, but not before the bartender makes me promise to come back before the end of the night. On the stairs leading outside, I pass BBQ, who is on the phone bitching about a certain someone being "a fucking rock star" and how he's sick of it. Neat.

Anyways, we head to Commune's where I get a whiskey coke, and then it's back to Bar Guess where my coworker, the bartender, and I all share shots of 151, while King Kahn draws on my arm with a sharpe and then gets kicked out of the bar for refusing to pay because he's "the fucking band".

And that is when I black out.

I wake up in my coworker's apartment, having made a mess of his sheets and with no clue of what happened last night. My hat and one of my flip flops are missing, and I have bruise on my shoulder and my hip in addition to the bump on my head from getting hit by the guitar.


The bruise on my shoulder, and you can see part of where King Kahn drew on my arm.

Lucky for me, my coworker retained consciousness the previous night and was able to fill in the blanks. According to him, after we left Bar Guess we got in a cab where I refused to pay the driver and then started swearing at him in the car while he looked on like a deer in headlights. Next, apparently I needed to pee so I went inside of a bank. Some might be confused by the simplicity of that sentence, so I'll elaborate:

While my coworker was outside throwing up against the side of the bank, I went inside the ATM kiosk, dropped my pants, and started pissing.

...In front of the security guard.

Now, my coworker tells me he doesn't know any Korean swearing, but he is pretty sure the guard was using quite a lot of it.

Later, he says I kept sitting down on bus stop benches next to people and kept falling while they looked on, shocked. Which probably explains my bruises. Since I lost one of my flip flops, I've been walking around in this tasty combo:

One Guinness flip flop, and one slipper stolen from a Seoul love hotel bathroom.

So now, I've lost in total a ring, a coat (later returned), a flip flop, and a hat. You're welcome, homeless of Daegu. However, this story also has a bonus ending: I went out the next night, and actually saw King Kahn walking around downtown. Which is curious, if you take a look at the bottom of this poster (that I ripped off the club wall):

He was definitely supposed to be in Busan, a city hours away. I ran into another guy who was at the show and also happened to be a music critic who confirmed that, yes, King Kahn & BBQ had in fact broken up on-stage during the show.

The moral of the story: I apparently turn into an asshole on 151, and I didn't get arrested. These feel like important things. Also, I got to see a band break up, which is neat.