That Time I Got Wasted With Sisqo on a Weeknight at a Shitty Bar in 2013

Enter the Dragon!!!
Enter the Dragon!!!

Ever seen Sisqo perform The Thong Song, LIVE, at a shitty suburban bar?  I have.  At least, I think I have.  I was drunkenly manic enough to have completely hallucinated one of the greatest nights of my life.  My own personal VJ Day!  The night The Dragon entered my male pixie heart through the back entrance of a shitty bar, sang The Thong Song, and vanished.

The instant I discovered that Sisqo would be appearing in this affluent suburban mecca, famous for its proliferation of aspiring yuppie bros, tapas restaurants, and aging Peter Pans like myself, I knew my life would never be the same.  So, naturally I prepared for the arrival of the seminal artist of the Y2K era by supercharging my already-fucked brain chemistry with booze.  Tons of booze.  On a weekday.

I pounded four $1.50 craft beers at a happy hour down the street, failing to pull two attractive twenty-somethings into my web of Sisqothusiasm.  Next stop, an empty sometimes-karaoke bar where my buddy and I air-thrusted at each other over 90s dance music, my dear cousin recording us for posterity and/or a potential intervention.  Then I met my co-uncle (my brother’s brother-in-law) in an exorbitantly long line for the shitty bar that had been magically transformed into the hottest club in any minor city, ever, by the magical, holy power of a swarthy, diminutive one-hit wonder.

My co-uncle and I guzzled vodka from his Sprite bottle, reality slipping further away with each guzzle, until it became but a mere memory.  I awoke in a happier place, where unicorns were real and there were no tomorrows.  I awoke in Sisqo Netherworld, and I never, ever wanted to leave.

We time traveled to the front of the line, ushered into paradise by a bewildered bouncer.  Fuck fire codes.  They were going to milk Sisqo Night dry.

I was majestically hammered by this point, but too amped to slow down.  I felt the gurgling anticipation of the crowd around me.  I felt their electric heartbeats.  I wanted to consume everything all at once.  I was a dodo bird, reborn.  A drunk, super drunk dodo bird.  Drunk, and cheap enough to go full stealth mode, slinking around the shitty bar like a drunk ninja, bogarting half empty beers, never detected, never satisfied.  If you took your eye off your beer for a single moment, the Beer Ninja was there to snatch it, my stealth supremacy bolstered by an uncontrollable avarice, an overzealous thirst for life… and for beers that did not belong to me.  The top of the bar, tables, the men’s room, no place was safe from the dreaded Beer Ninja.  I was an artist, nay, superhero, at the apex of his powers.  This was Sisqo in the Suburbs, god damn it.  There were no rules, no boundaries, no shame.

I have never been in love before, but I was dead certain I would meet the one true love of my life, my Forever Everything, drunk as fuck on stolen hooch.  Two lonely souls morphing together on the dance floor, as The Dragon breathed his sweet lyrical fire all over us.  Sisqo was coming to change my life.  Sisqo would heal me!

A cacophonous roar pulsed through my cramped sweathouse kingdom.  Sisqo entered through the back door, surrounded by his much taller security team.  (Yeah, Sisqo still has a security detail, who knew?)   I squealed like the woo girl I was, am.  I felt The Dragon’s presence wash over me like thick smoke.  Suddenly he took the stage and sang a Dru Hill song nobody gave a shit about, yet the vigorous spirit of the crowd glistened with anticipation for what would quickly follow.  I felt achingly, screamingly ALIVE.  Sisqo finished his needless Dru Hill track and launched into his masterpiece.


All I remember from that point forward was screaming “let me see it, let me see it!”, groaning “baby make your booty” (but not finishing the lyric), jumping up and down wooing, and standing around like a lecher after last call, Sisqo-less, waiting for the magic switch of everlasting love to flicker on and light my heart as I trudged over broken Bud Lite bottles.

I didn’t meet my soulmate that night.  Or maybe I did.  Maybe Sisqo was my soulmate, and I let him get away, disappearing into the dark suburban night, gone forever.

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