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Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Killing An Arab

"I liked your rendition," said the semi-attractive Asian girl. I had just finished singing a karaoke version of Wilson Pickett's "Mustang Sally" for a packed house at a cruddy dive bar.

"Ha ha, thanks," I said. Bob Marley's "Could You Be Love" was playing, and we were in that awkward position where we were kind of dancing together, but not really. We were facing towards each other, but it wasn't like we were holding hands or freaking or anything like that. Suddenly, a lanky white guy stepped in between us and started actually-dancing with the semi-attractive Asian girl. It was clear that he knew her--maybe he thought he was "saving" her from me, maybe it was his girlfriend--the gist was that he saw our almost-dance and decided to put a stop to it.

It reminded me of the first time I visited Barcelona, Spain. I had just graduated high school and I was on a one-month blitz around Europe with my best friend at the time, JT. We only stayed in Barcelona for about five days on that trip, but we went clubbing nearly every night. I expected there to be lots of exotic Spanish girls around, but being the typical tourists we were, we picked the touristy nightclubs, and as a result the inhabitants of the club were a group of white girls from the Midwest and a gaggle of slimy Indian and Pakistani guys. My suspicion is that an evolved trait of slimy guys is that they're particularly crafty in devising ways to get close to that which they cannot have otherwise--namely, girls in black stretch pants and slinky tops. The particular method these guys used was to creep in behind the girls when they were dancing in a group circle, and bump and grind until they were discovered and eventually shunned. Apparently the methods that slimy guys use to freak on hot girls is not race or ethnicity-specific--I'd seen the same tricks used back home. Clever? Yes. An unpleasant surprise when the freak-ee inevitably turns around only to find Hassad the sweaty, silk-shirt-wearing yutz pelvic-thrusting his way to an erection? Yes.

The club's makeup was like a crappy piece of coconut-centered Valentine's Day chocolate--white in the middle, and brown completely surrounding it. These girls, who were in truth pretty unspectacular, had become like Mecca at prayer time.

Here's where I become more of a hypocrite than the dope-smoking sluts who doubled as Eucharistic Ministers at my Catholic high school. JT and I knew we weren't like Hassad the slimy Pakistani guy--these girls might actually want to dance with us (after all, we're white). Adapting to the situation, we developed a method in which we used the clever but bound-to-fail technique of our competitors to our own advantage. Anticipating the disgust of the girls, we would find a guy who was shaking his groove thing all over some unsuspecting girl, wait until the moment where she realized he was there but was unsure of what to do, and dash in between the pair like a knight in shining armor, saving her from a certain groping. The girl would be so relieved to see us, we reasoned, that she would let us grope and gyrate to our heart's delight. It worked pretty well, although we did piss off a number of brown people in the process.

This memory opened the file on a similar but even more clever method of shimmying your way into a girl's heart, and more importantly, pants. A friend related a story to me about the summer he lived with a bunch of young and irresponsible friends. Two of his friends concocted a version of "Good Cop, Bad Cop" that involved one of them pretending like he was really drunk and trying to randomly approach a girl and start trying to either kiss or grope her. The Good Cop would then break up the party, and apologize to the victim.

"Oh, I'm so sorry--my friend here is really drunk. Don't pay any attention to him. My name's Dan, what's yours?"

The plan only backfired when the Bad Cop came on to a girl who accepted his advances eagerly and denied any assistance from the Good Cop. The two ended up banging in the back seat of Bad Cop's car. It was then that they realized that their method was what is known as "foolproof".