Sports editor blows it yet again

My Saturday night was one to remember this weekend.

Fridays and Saturdays are typically my days to relax from school and work, precious days off. Instead, my boss texted me in the afternoon, begging me to come work a night shift. Less than thrilled, I agreed. I got off work fairly early though, and my night was just beginning.

A few of my close friends from High School were in town for Thanksgiving break and we decided to go out to Downstream Casino, where I won $20 on a blackjack table.

Eventually we decided to try to chase down the infamous “Spook Light” of the area. We failed to track it down, but were convinced several times we were being followed by strangers. Nope. Just people who actually knew where they were going down the backroads near Hornet, Mo.

Finally, at about 1:30 a.m. I got back home, ready for bed. My cell phone promptly buzzed with an always alarming name at the top: Nathan Mills.

He told me he and his girlfriend were out at The Vibe, a nightclub in Jopin that permits minors. Mills told me his girlfriend “knew this girl I should meet.”

I should have known from there it was going to be interesting.

Now, nothing against The Vibe, everyone there seemed to enjoy it. People were dancing, enjoying the music and atmosphere. It’s just, as I put it to Mills, I’m about as comfortable in a nightclub as he would be at the gym.

Everything about it was just awkward for me. From the unnecessary “frisking” at the door to the departure a mere 30 minutes later.

I mean, I know they don’t want any trouble at this place, but really? I guess it just caught me off guard. Here I was thinking this was the guy I was gonna pay my cover charge to, next thing I know his hands are up and down my legs. And everywhere else.

So I get inside and immediately spot Mills. His white zip-up hoodie glowed like the moon under the blacklights.

I recognized this glowing ghost in front of me, and his girlfriend, but I began thinking about the “girl” Mills wanted me to meet. The background information I was given sounded something like this, “She’s…your age. And…really nice!”


Next thing I know, up walks a 5’5″ blonde, not bad at all. Conversation. Introductions. Time to dance.

Wait, what? Dance?

This girl knew what she was doing. A little too well. Sure, she was my age and…nice, but it didn’t take long for me to decide The Vibe isn’t where I should be going to meet the kind of girls I’d be interested in.

Believe it or not, this Scottish-blooded white-boy stuck out like a sore thumb on the dance floor. Didn’t help that Mills insisted on dancing with me first, “just to ease the tension.”


Any chemistry I had before that, and there wasn’t much at this foreign place, was immediately killed.

A few songs in, and it was time for some food. We departed for every piss-poor college student, or drunken moron’s favorite: IHOP.

Two foreign exchange students, one German and one Chilean, a Willie Brown sighting, and a terrible waitress later, I was in bed, quite sure I’d never have another Saturday like it.