15 Shots and the dancing queen
Goodness gracious where to begin on this one. Some of the decisions we made back then truly were incredibly stupid. This ritual may not have been the worst, but I’d say it’s definitely one of the strangest. It was born out of our desire to be “those guys” at the bar, the insatiable need to be the loser-wasted centre of attention.
I was talking to Pat the other day about the actual inception date of 15 Shots, but to neither our surprise we couldn’t come close to remembering it. I very vaguely recall what could possibly be the birthday, it was an after party after a show, in some town in some state or province. And I believe it started out with good intentions. Im fairly certain there was 15 of us (duh), but, I think the actual “why” of the whole deal was because the group started thinning out after the initial round, yet us that love the liquor a little too much kept ordering the same 15 shots for every round. OBVIOUSLY I wouldn’t remember anything after the first round and neither would you so don’t judge me.
The stupidity should’ve ended there. A crazy stupid night with too much to drink and not enough friends it seems. Part of me wishes it ended there, part of me wishes i remembered more in my 20’s… Next night out, I definitely remember the beginning of this train wreck. I was on the dance floor, as I used to dance back then to “meet girls”. I thought I was killing it with my moves, but almost like clockwork i would have to endure reenactments of my skills the next day. So there I am, just cutting a rug Carlton style, with a gorgeous Jamaican princess (I had a serious obsession/phase back then, to the point where I was only interested in beautiful black women and nothing else, more on that some other day…) when I get summoned over to the bar. My eyes widen at the display before my eyes. 15 shots of fresh who-knows-what liquor. But wait, there was only 4 or 5 of us out that night? Well this is interesting. It seemed hilarious until it was my turn to get a round and i saw the bill. I had to ask the server or bartender or whoever was next to me because i couldn’t read a damn thing on the bill at that point.
I think there was few times where it was JUST Pat and i, bored on tour, going out for “one drink” and end up STARTING with 15 shots, ending up with orange paint on Pat’s jeans and me with a women’s wig on in a hotel sauna at 3am...