Six years ago today I was just a single guy living alone and riding my bike without a care in the world. As was typical for the day, T-Star, triathlete, adventure racer and socialite extraordinare sends out the call for the start of the weekend happy hour. The usual round of suspects are on the list, all of the local cyclists and triathletes from around the Baltimore area are descending upon Bohager's for an evening of libations. My buddy Chad and I were the typical single guys working the scene trying to pick up girls. As the night wore on and our group slowing dwindled to only the hardcore partiers (those who would actually stay out past 9 as to not ruin their 5am swim, bike or run workout) I decided to go talk to a couple of girls who seem to have been there with our little group but weren't really part of the whole tri-geek scene. They were sitting at the bar looking very disinterested, especially at the guy currently trying to talk them up. I don't even remember what I went in with for a line, but soon after Chad and I were on the dance floor with them. The one I was dancing with was a blonde, the other a brunette. At some point Chad and switched off, I'm not a much for blondes and he's not much for brunettes.
The night continued on, the drinks were flowing freely from their roommate who they were there with and happened to be seeing a friend of mine. We were on the dance floor having a good time, laughing at the white trash that frequents the meat market so aply nicknamed Hobagger's, when she randomly decides to lightly kick one of three of Dundalk's finest in the ass. He was one of three guys walking around the bar in a grey t-shirt acting all tough and probably looking for a fight at the end of the night to suppress his sexual frustration. Next thing I know I have these same three guys in my face asking this girl why she kicked him. Apparently one of their friends stealthily cloaked in a flannel shirt had seen the incident and reported back to them an opportunity to release their frustrations. All I remember is looking around the place and not seeing anyone capable of backing me up should things get ugly. After a few tense minutes the guy and his friends (later dubbed the "Grey T-shirt Mafia") finally accepted the girl's story that she didn't know what he was talking about and that his friend must be mistaken. At that point I should have known it was time to leave but hey, things were going pretty good up to that point so why not try and close the deal?
We ended up closing down the bar and as I tried to get this girl to come home with me, her friends were there to "save" her. Chad was doing his best with the blonde but the red head wasn't letting it happen. The night ended with a string of phone numbers and email scrolled up and down my arms.
Now as I look back 6 years, I can only wonder where I would be if I'd never called those numbers on my arm a few days later and went out a week later with Gina on our first date. Probably still trying to pick up girls in bars.