Casey was in town for the MN Deer Classic (he lives up North in the woods), so we went out on the town.
We went to Williams, which I love (they come in pints!, lots of pool, peanut shells on the floor, and the $2 Chicago dogs), but then Casey wanted to dance. So I said, “there is one place to dance in Uptown, but it’s a little sketchy.”
But we went anyway.
When we walked in, they were playing crappy music (again and again and again). So I walked to the DJ (aka I weaved through a hoard of sweaty bodies) and requested a song.
Then they kept playing more bad songs, and Casey wanted to go to another bar. “We need to dance to Usher, and then we can leave,” I demanded.
When Usher finally came on and I wanted to skip to the dance floor, only I never really had the opportunity to get there, only pivot toward it because suddenly people were flying and a full out brawl was breaking out. One man picked up a stool and smashed it over the other person. Wood chips were flying. People were flying. And then the lights were on, cops were inside, and people were getting yelled at to “get out.” When we walked outside, we were immediately blinded by a spotlight in the sky (helicopter), and the flashing cop lights that lined the street (shutting the whole road down).
“I told you it was a little sketchy,” I snickered. “Now let’s go back to Williams for one last hot dog.”