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One day, a few months ago, I did something I still feel guilty about. I was at a party with a few friends and things on the dance floor were getting a little out of control. Like English soccer riot out of control. So, after being hit in the head with an elbow for the 30th time, I got angry. And then I poured my beer down someone’s dress. Now, I’m not proud of this. I’m ashamed. And if the person I did this to is reading this, I’m really sorry. But I’d just gotten fed up with everyone who was drunk and stupid. Now, having been drunk before once or twice in my life, I understand that the motor and nervous systems can get all out of whack. Some people pass out, some people throw up, and some even pee, which by the way, is really gross. I wasn’t even drunk at all and I poured beer on someone. So it’ s no surprise that people can be rude while they’re sipping on the gin and juice. But sometimes the level of rudeness surprises me. One early morning I was at Earnestine and Hazel’s, doing the whole dancing queen thing (although not very successfully because the person feeding the juke box was either temporarily insane, on Valium, or just really, really wanted to slow dance). Finally though, a good song came on and my friend and I shucked both beer and bags onto a nearby counter so we could dance. Now I was keeping one eye on my purse, just in case (I mean, I do keep my lipstick in there), when a friendly couple stopped and lingered nearby. It being in the a.m. and me being tired, I was ready to karate chop both of them if they tried to grab my purse, which I would never do in daylight hours. Instead, and to my horror, Mr. Man goes and lifts his girlfriend up onto the counter, and suddenly, though I can still see my purse, my beer was obstructed by her massive assive (okay, it wasn’t that big, but it was also smack dab in front of my beer and how was I to save my drink if they started making out? One couple on the dance floor was already rounding third, so it wasn’t completely unheard of). To all of our credit, I politely tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, but I think you’re sitting on my beer,” and they both smiled and she handed me a bottle. Now, the bottle was half full, but I don’t think it was mine. And I was so not in the mood for roofies (let’s be honest, it’s really a drug I’m never in the mood for). So I’m like, “No, I think it’s the one behind you,” but of course I didn’t want to snake my hand around her, so I pointed to her bum and waited. She gave me another beer, and it could have been mine, but as I said, I was not in the mood for roofies, so said beer was ditched. Now I know this incident is not a big deal. I shouldn’t have left my beer lying around if I still wanted it. And they were rather nice about returning it. I guess my problem was that they didn’t even think I might be sketched out by the fact that this girl had basically sat down on all of our stuff. And then, while she remained on our stuff, her man started dancing around my friend and me like we were tuna and he was a very drunk shark. He would samba over and we would cha-cha away. But the dancing area at E&H’s isn’t that big (especially with one corner taken over by people having dancing-sex) and my friend and I were somehow herded next to the girlfriend on the counter, boxed in like little guppies (just to stick with the fishy analogies). It was horribly disconcerting, in fact, so much so that we left shortly thereafter. You can only run for so long. It just seems like impolite social behavior is the norm in clubs and bars after dark (I certainly didn’t help with that beer-pouring episode, I know). But every time I go out, either I’ll get stepped on or fallen over or herded about like a guppy or, the most heinous of all sins, some guy will start grinding me from behind. Can I tell you how much I like that? Because oh, I really do. Every girl does, I think. Where someone you’ve never even seen before, much less talked to, comes up behind you and suddenly you’re getting all biblical and you didn’t say that was okay, that’s awesome. I could go on a long rant about this, but I won’t. I just hope everyone got the sarcasm. The thing is, it’s not just me who these things happen to. It’s everybody. And barring those actions we talked about before (the vomiting, the passing out, the peeing), they aren’t involuntary. You can stop them. All I’m asking for is a little consideration. If you’re dancing, and there’s not much room, dance a little smaller. If you’re the only one out there, by all means, swing those arms and get down with your bad self. But if not, watch where you’re going. As for that grinding thing, never touch my bum with ANY part of your body unless I give you the green light. And last but not least, do not sit on my beer under any circumstances. As for me, I’ll try not to pour my drink on you. Deal? ( Mary Cashiola writes about life every Friday @ You’re invited to come along.)

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