DJing Stories: Shit Girl

So this story is by far my favoritest story to tell. Back when I first started DJing, I had the privilege of working at a crappy college bar (FYI, it literally smelled like crap. Not sarcastically smelled like crap or figuratively smelled like crap. It SMELLED like crap! Later on, I found out that they didn’t technically clean the bar. They just threw down hot water and bleach and swiveled the stuff around. #Disgusting.)

Moving right along, the bar I worked at had a mixed crowd. We had college kids, locals (who tend to be of the Negro variety), old playas (which tend to be of the retired variety), and your young escapees from the nearest military base. As a DJ, I had to keep these various folks and their various tastes in music entertained while maintaining civil interactions. Talk about tough titty.

One evening, as all evenings, a group of Caucasian females (coming from one trashy sorority or another) comes strolling in ready for a night out. This night out swiftly turns into White Girl Wasted part 456-delta-sigma-prime, aka too many to count. Anyway, one of the intoxicated patrons included a new recruit, nicknamed ShitGirl.

Ya see, one can only assume ShitGirl was new because one would want to volunteer an excuse for her actions. In actuality, she would need to be young or stupid from the way she handled her liquor. Talk about sloppy to the sloppiest degree, she was on the ground crawling to the music. And I don’t mean on beat or for any particular reason. Just kinda down there, chilling, enjoying the view.
RULE: The drunk person is entertainment to everyone, an embarrassment to their friends, and a lesson learned to ALL onlookers.

At one point, she disappeared into a different bar, unbeknownst to anyone (or mainly the people who cared). Yes, her own FRIENDS lost her and didn't really care to resurface her remains.
RULE: Friends don't let friends leave alone.

In her failed effort to be classy and not trashy, ShitGirl lost her phone. Accordingly, some college student, either ignorant to the profitable world of Ebay, Craigslist, or Amazon AND/OR practicing the basics of Karama learned from their World Religions lecture, decided to turn in her phone to the bartenders. 

At around 2:30 AM, ShitGirl reappears at the front of the bar. At this point, we had kicked everyone out. The bouncers are still around patrolling the last few straddlers, the bartenders are cleaning up the bar, the DJ is packing up her equipment, and the manager, keeping a micromanaging, stern eye on everyone and everything, has locked the doors. 

RULE: Shut AND lock the door if you want to count money. This should be logic, but hey stupider things have happened in College Park.

ShitGirl proclaims, through the door in her best, articulate, drunk slur of English, that she has left her phone inside. Being of masculine body and feminine heart, one bouncer feels pity and lets her in. #Mistake1

She stammers directly to the basement, bypassing the bartenders, and heads to the bathroom. Us remaining folks sit around, shoot the shit, and continue with our nightly duties. In 3 to 5 minutes, ShitGirl reappears with the most disgusting smells I have ever smelled in my life.

She appears with human feces, tampon blood, alcohol, beer bottle labels, and toilet paper on her arms where she had been blatantly digging in what is most obviously the women’s toilet(s). On top of that, she walks toward the bouncer who let her in, asking for her phone. He shrieks, as any person would with a drunk Zombie covered in other people’s blood, shit, urine, etc.

Although you think she was alone, she apparently had one friend left. Remaining in the bar, sitting near the coat rack with other bouncers, was a group of Navy men. These young gents did not want their night to end and sat peacefully with the bouncers, most likely discussing after-parties or politics (believe whatever suits your fancy). One of them, who will now be referred to as NavyPatron, takes ShitGirl back downstairs and cleans her up. Aww what a nice guy, right? Wrong!

In a few minutes, ShitGirl reappears less like a mess, but still troubled with a look of confusion and longing for her phone. NavyPatron walks up to the bartender and asks for a specific phone. Like magic, it appears. Apparently, it had been safe at the bar since 10PM. #Mistake2

NavyPatron hands the phone to ShitGirl and then receives a very gracious hug. Assuming he liked said hug or said girl, he asks ShitGirl where her friends were. In the bar? No. Neighboring bar? No. Picking up phones? No. Well, it looks like ShitGirl needs a ride home.

So NavyPatron takes ShitGirl away with him in his Ford Mustang of that year (yes, the military pays well). Anyway, she leaves with, not her friends, but a random male stranger to go “home.” #Mistake3

And when people ask me how I went 4 years without barely touching a drink in college, I tell them it's cause of ShitGirl. She is a true inspiration.