NEW YEAR'S EVE 2005

I recently retold the story of my New Year's Eve debacle from 2005 to some friends, which reminded me that I had written about it. So here, for your amusement, is a recap of that terrible night.

"01.12.05

So now that I've come to terms with the events that befell me on New Year's Eve this year, I feel the best way to move on is to share my experiences with others. It’s a long-winded description filled with the word “ass.” Enjoy.

The night started out as any other. Playing board games at my grandparents' house and eating fried chicken (Chicken Shack, mmmmmmmmmm) with all my aunts and uncles and cousins. Come eight o'clock it was time to go have non-family related fun and drown my brain in a steady flow of alcoholic beverages (alcohol, mmmmmmmmmmm). I proceeded to join some friends at a "pre-drink" event before we went to "Posh," a somewhat posh bar in Ferndale. It was a good night. Good drinks, good friends, good music. I entered 2005 in good spirits and to that point the night had been stress-free and enjoyable.

And then, at some point, let's say 2:15 a.m. I felt like maybe I had sat in some champagne or beer because my ass was all wet. Hmmmmm...I reached back with my hand to investigate the wetness. Now, when you reach back and feel your ass, what’s the last thing you want to see on your hand when you look? I’ll tell you.

Blood.

Yikes. My ass was covered in blood. I immediately took further investigatory action. I felt between my boxers and bare ass, hoping to find it sans blood, thinking maybe I had sat in someone else’s blood. No such luck. My hand came back bloodier than before. That’s not good. I could now feel blood running down the back of my leg and I started to feel uncomfortable. Keep in mind; I was under the influence of numerous forms of alcohol so my brain was moving at a cumbersome pace. I went into the men’s room to have a look in the mirror. Several friendly patrons informed me I had blood on my pants. Thanks. It’s also soaking my boxers and running down my leg, dickmouth.

The bathroom trip confirmed what my hand-test had indicated. I was bleeding from my right ass-cheek. Apparently, at some point I either sat or fell on some broken glass. Or I was knifed. But at no point did I recall thinking, “ouch, I just cut my butt-cheek open.”

Now that I was sure of the situation it was time to deal with it. First order of business, find someone sober. I approached one of the club’s bouncers and tried to tell him my ass was bleeding. The club was loud, so eventually I had to turn around, point to my ass and shout, “My ass won’t stop bleeding!” He led me to some sort of back storage room. Things are sort of blurry from here. I do know for sure there was a basket of apples in that back room. I have no idea why they were there, but my secondary objective, aside from getting my ass to stop bleeding, was to eat an apple.

Once inside I immediately removed my dress shirt, pants and boxers, leaving me in a t-shirt and socks. Cock'n'balls swinging in the chilly nightclub backroom air. Well, they were less “swinging” and more like “cowering,” probably. Luckily, only some bouncers and waitresses and some old lady were back there. For the next ten minutes or so I tried to stop the bleeding with paper towels and willpower. No luck.

At this point I was incoherent and angry. I was marching around some back room basically naked. I was shouting at people about my nakedness, “It doesn’t even matter any more. It’s New Year’s Eve and my ass won’t stop bleeding. Can things get any worse? I just don’t care about anyone seeing my balls at this point. I’d just like for my ass to stop bleeding.” But it would not.

After a short while longer the paramedics arrived. They had a look and informed me they could take me to the hospital and give me a tetanus shot and maybe one stitch. In my incoherent state all I could think was, there’s no way I’m paying $400 for an ambulance ride to the hospital for a small cut in my butt-cheek (a drunk person can’t be responsible for knowing what their insurance will and will not cover, so I played it safe). I insisted that someone would drive me to the hospital. Yeah, at 2:30 in the morning on New Years Eve all of my friends should be in great shape to drive. So the paramedics allowed me to go find a friend. I put my blood pants on and went to look. One of the paramedics shadowed me through the club to make sure I didn’t just run off.

Eventually I found an angel, Stacey, who agreed to take me to the hospital. All we had to do was find Steve to give us the keys. Of course, after looking around for five or ten minutes we realized Steve had disappeared, leaving both of us rideless. I informed the paramedics that I was not riding in the ambulance, so they should just fix me up the best they could. Which meant one of those poor paramedics had to get on his knees and clean all of the blood off my ass while I shouted at everyone about how this wasn’t funny. He used a tremendous amount of tape to put on some gauze and at last, blood was no longer flowing unchecked from my tender flesh. I signed a waiver and went with nurse Stacey, my caretaker.

In the end, this story teaches us several things. One, your ass is a fleshy area that contains a lot of blood. Two, don’t sit or fall on broken glass or get stabbed in your ass. Three, no girl will have sex with a man who’s bleeding from his ass. At least I don’t think so.

The most painful part came the next day when I had to tear the tape off my poor ass. Thank heavens I’m a relatively ass-hairless individual.

Phew. That’s all.

In other news, yesterday I discovered that one of the scenes you see in movies and think “that never happens” actually happens. I was standing near the curb on the way to grab some groceries on a somewhat rainy night. And WHOOSH, a cab hit a puddle giving me a shower from the chest down. A good amount of wetness.

But after bleeding from my ass, nothing really bothers me anymore."