Read I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell Online
Authors: Tucker Max
10:45:
The line to piss is way too long. I walk outside and pee on th
e
wall
.
10:46:
A cop walks up
.
Cop "Son, you need to stop that and come over here.
"
Tucker "I can't stop; it'll burn. I have to finish.
"
10:4
7: As the cop pulls out his handcuffs he sees a fight break out 2
0
yards away. He runs off. Tonight, the Drinking Gods are on my side
.
Well, sort of
.
10:48:
As I zip up my pants, I run to another bar. Just in case
.
10:55:
At the new bar, I get a drink. Uncoordinated from my inebriatio
n
I spill the drink on myself. I get mad at it, "You naughty liquor, yo
u
drunken me.
"
10:56:
Much to my surprise, my drink starts talking back to me. It tells me not to blame it, that I am a clumsy drunk. I believe I may have dis- covered a new level of drunkenness beyond 'Tucker Max Drunk'. It is called 'When Inanimate Objects Talk To You Drunk.'
11:15:
I see a girl standing in line for the bathroom. I'm not sure why, but I am drawn to her.
11:16:
I approach her. I tell her not to be sad. She tells me that she failed the bar. I tell her that's OK, she'll pass next time. She tells me that I am nice. 16 hours of continuous drinking and my Lonely Slut Radar is still sharp.
1:30am: Many drinks and lots of flirting later, we go to her place.
1:35:
She is trying to convince me that she never does this and is not that type of girl. It was difficult for me to understand. Her enunciation isn't very good with my dick in her mouth. This thought is my last clear memory.
11:OOam:I wake up in,GoldenWife's apartment. Hate is passed out on the sofa. I reek of vomit and stale sweat. I am confused as to how I got there.
11:01am: GoldenBoy hands me his phone, and tells me to listen to the voice message. It is my voice, recorded around 2:45am. I am out of breath, and sound like I am running:
"GoldenBoy, what is your address? Where are you? I just fucked some random chick I met outside The Biltmore. Apparently she didn't pass the Bar, so she liked me. The condom broke and I got the fuck out of there as soon as I could. I'm fucked. My illegitimate kids are going to be ugly and stupid. HELP!!"
Occurred-October 2000 Written-September 2003
The Steak & Shake Bond
Early in my third year of law school, I was sitting in the library with my crew of friends, skipping class and trading stories about our summers. At first, I was the center of attention, having just come off the summer of The Infamous Tucker Max Charity Auction Debacle, but PWJ quickly trumped me.
He told us a story about a gentlemens' club he frequented in Dallas, a place far different than the common strip club:
"The first time I got a lap dance there, I was kinda reticent about touching her, but the stripper grabbed my hands and put them on her tits. During the second dance, she turned around and basically dry humped me for the entire song. I didn't get a third dance, but if I did, I could have all but have had sex with the girl. She was SMOKING HOT and wasn't even close to being the best one there. And the very best part: $5 cover charge and $2 bottles and wells."
After we initially called bullshit, PWJ finally convinced us that this Lost City of Cibola did exist. We were greatly excited. Jon Benet summed it up, "And I used to think there was a bright line between a gentleman's club and a brothel. Now you're telling me it's just gray ... " This place was called Baby Dolls, and it became our Holy Grail. We immediately planned a trip to Dallas. At the outset, all ten of us were in. But as the departure date loomed closer, various friends started taking dives .
Our first stop was a Steak & Shake somewhere outside of Charlotte, where we bonded with each other by recounting tales of our fucked up youths. I recalled a childhood colored by parental instability, multiple divorces, re-marriages (seven between my two biological parents), step-parents, constant relocation, loneliness and emotional pain. No one cared about my problems, because they had already read about my father's most recent divorce (it was in Time magazine), and didn't need any more details to know I was fucked up.
PWJ told us of an awkward youth being the son of an Army Colonel, where his Styx jean jacket and obsession with all things vehicular
could not make the Kansas yokels overlook his abnormally misshapen egghead and triple digit IQ. Popular he was not, but since none of us are his normal dim-witted native teenage girl prey, we didn't care. While his age (3 years older than us) gave him a wisdom and maturity that none of us yet possessed, under this composed and compassionate exterior, PWJ could be the biggest snake of the group. The fact that he grew up smart, but a social outsider, forced him to learn game the hard way and also planted a retributive mean streak. Even though he is more often than not the voice of reason in the group, he is also the one who will manipulate an innocent eighteen-year-old into sex with lies and deception (whereas the rest of us just find the slutty girls and let them do what comes natural).
Sling Blade regaled us with tales of his emotionally distant, risk-averse and over-protective parents, who split time yelling at him and cloistering him in his room. His was a youth spent with action figures as his friends and a Nintendo as his baby-sitter. He also told us perhaps the most defining story of his life: He and his high school girlfriend, the love of his life, went to different undergrads. He spent the first semester of college passing up on sex with every girl who approached him (and there were many), because he was naïve and in love and didn't want to cheat on his girlfriend. She did not possess the same integrity, so she cheated on him. A lot. And didn't tell him until he went down to visit her and noticed that guys kept coming by her room, asking what she was up to later that night. SlingBlade does not deal well with emotional pain, and as such he is now bitter and imputes her cuckoldry on all women.
But it was EI Bingeroso who stole the show. He grew up in a very small town in Nebraska, with about 700 people, one Dairy Queen and one gas station. He remembered his father making his brother and him run timed 100-meter races against each other. At age 6. When he got to elementary school he was fat and would constantly eat paste, so the teachers just assumed he was retarded and put him in the Special Ed class. He was in the Special Education program until age 8 when they finally gave him an IQ test, realized he was a genius, and moved him to the gifted class. He was actually upset about leaving the sped class, because he liked the coloring and frequent snack times. He also told us about the time he and his brother, then aged 9 and 11, watched from the locked car while their dad beat up a mugger, nearly killing him by repeatedly smashing his head into the hood and fender, spraying blood all over the car [I have subsequently met EI Bingeroso's father, and believe me-he is not a man to cross. I have a robust fear of him].
But what really distinguished him from the rest of us was that he was truly in love and actually had a stable life. Even though he was a partier like the rest of us, he loved his fiancee, was totally committed to her, and was very excited that he had finally convinced her to wear a French maid outfit to the Duke Law Halloween party.
We arrived in Dallas on Friday afternoon. After a quick nap, we went to an early dinner at some Mexican place in Deep Ellum, then across the street to a roadhouse-type bar designed for yuppies. Both Pabst and Guinness on tap. Metrosexuals dressed in brown Lycra as far as the eye could see. I immediately hated everyone.
We get two pitchers and decide to play table shuffleboard. Barely into our first pitcher, I notice two girls checking us out. A hot blonde [Blonde] and a decent red-head [Redhead]. They stare at us for about ten minutes. I want to have sex with the blonde, so I start things off:
"You gonna come talk to us or just stand there and stare?" They accept my invitation. I stare at the tits on the blonde. They are nearly flawless, and quite seductively exposed. The girl knows what she's doing. Despite my nearly forensic examination (she doesn't notice- I am a pro at this), I keep the conversation moving along nicely until dumbass EI Bingeroso decides to fuck everything up: Blonde "So, what brings you guys to Dallas?"
EI Bingeroso "We came to go to a strip club." EI Bingeroso is an engaged cock-blocking jerk. Thanks asshole, I didn't want to fuck her or anything. Redhead [kinda pulling me aside as EI Bingeroso keeps talking to Blonde] "Did you really come to Dallas to go to a strip club?" Tucker "No, no. We had a week off from law school, so we came to visit some friends, hang out, that sort of thing. EI Bingeroso just wants to go to a strip club he heard about." Redhead "Do you like strip clubs? Those places are gross." Tucker "Yeah, they are kinda gross. But my friends really want to go, so what can I do? I don't know anyone in Dallas. Besides, I like naked breasts". Redhead "You can stay here ... hang out with me." Tucker "Yeah, maybe." And maybe I'll watch reruns of Alf on Telemundo. EI Bingeroso tugs on me, "Dude, you might want to get in on this." [He turns back to the blonde] "So, you think you want to come to Baby Dolls with us?"
Blonde "I'll come to the strip club with you guys; I want to see some bi
g
titties.
"
Tucker "Have you ever been to Baby Dolls before?
"
Blonde "Yeah, I auditioned there once.
"
DING DING DING DING!!! JACKPOT!!! Call the pit boss, we have
a
big winner
!
EI Bing "Do you like girls?
"
Blonde "Of course.
"
Excellent. All we need is 70's music to start playing and we've got
a
porno in the making
.
I glance at the other end of the table. It's our turn, but EI Bingeroso an
d
I haven't thrown the pucks for ten minutes. SlingBlade is glaring at m
e
with his standard half-bored, half-disdainful, "Another whore?
"
expression that he always gives me when I start talking to random girls.
I
motion for him to come down to our end of the table ... and then I se
e
PWJ
.
Great Holy Jesus-it looks like he fell into Kentucky Fried Movie. He i
s
talking to a woman with a leopard cowboy hat on over platinum bouffan
t
hair. Her make-up looks like it was applied with a shotgun. Sh
e
has on tight orange hot-pants, which she obviously brought from he
r
last job at Hooters. Around her waist is a belt, and there appears to b
e
a toy gun holstered to it. She was probably very attractive in, say
,
1986. Now, she's in the death throes of a losing battle against tim
e
and fashion irrelevance
.
Tucker "Dude, what is PWJ talking to?
"
SlingBlade "I don't know ... some whore. She squirted him with he
r
water gun, and off he went. She has big tits ... Cupid has spoken.
"
Fifteen more minutes of bullshitting, and the Blonde is sealed up
.
Unfortunately, she wants Redhead to come with us, who is not at al
l
enthused at the prospect of going to "one of those places." I a
m
presented with a logistical nightmare: I want to fuck Blonde, who i
s
throwing her cooch at EI Bingeroso. The only way she is going to Bab
y
Dolls is if Redhead comes. Redhead is in love with me, but does no
t
want to come to Baby Dolls. EI Bingeroso is drunk and no help. So wha
t
do I do
?
Here is where taking econ classes at the University of Chicago help
s
out with real-life game. This is a classic example of the Prisoner'
s
Dilemma; if I keep paying attention to the Blonde and try to capture m
y
small chance to fuck her, I will probably fail and then I get no pussy
,
and the group gets no lesbian action at the strip club, because neithe
r
will come with us. Everyone loses. But, if I take one for the team, ignor
e
the Blonde and instead seal up the Redhead, I can get both t
o
come with us to Baby Dolls. This means that I probably won't fuck th
e
Blonde, which decreases my chance at personal happiness, but I wil
l
give the group the best chance to maximize the situation, by gettin
g
two girls to come to a strip club with us. See-even Tucker Max can b
e
altruistic. If it benefits him
.
Tucker "Redhead, come on, let's all go to the strip club. It'll be a goo
d
time.
"
Redhead "Don't go to a strip club. You know those girls don't car
e
about you.
"
SlingBlade "That's not true. They sit on my lap and tell me they lov
e
me." SlingBlade usually chooses the funny joke over the smart play
.
And this, folks, is why he gets no pussy. Well ... that, and he has n
o
confidence, and is scared of emotional commitment to a woman becaus
e
he thinks they are all cheating sluts
.
Tucker "Thanks asshole. Why don't you go watch Deep Space Nin
e
and leave this to me. Dick.
"
I pull Redhead away from Captain No Pussy, "Come on sweetie. It'l
l
be fun. Your friend wants to go.
"
Redhead "I don't want to go to that place. It's gross.
"
Tucker "Yeah, I know. But I'll be there, we can hang outtogether. We'l
l
let them," waving dismissively at my friends, "look at naked women
,
and you and I can just hang out. Together." I actually reach out and pu
t
her hands in mine
.
Redhead "Why don't you just stay here. With me?
"
Tucker "Yes, let's stay together ... at the club.
"
Redhead "But I don't want to go to a strip club.
"
Tucker "But I want to go. With you ... us ... together.
"
Redhead "I don't like it there.
"
Tucker "Have you ever been?
"
Redhead "No ...
"
Tucker "I tell you what: If you and Blonde come with us, I promise tha
t
you and I can sit in a corner somewhere and stare into each other'
s
eyes, completely ignoring everything around us. It'll be romantic. We'l
l
be so busy staring into each other's eyes, we won't even see what'
s
going on. "Hearing these words, I nearly threw up in my mouth. Sh
e
paused and contemplated
.
Redhead "No ... 1don't want to go to a strip club. I ... I just can't.
"
This is just fucking great. Even I have my limit, and that 'staring int
o
each others eyes' bullshit was it. Sling Blade and EI Bingeroso tire o
f
this, go fetch PWJ away from his water-pistol packing cow-whore, an
d
start to leave. Redhead is trying to convince me to stay at the bar wit
h
her. She is almost pleading with me. Before I know it, my friends ar
e
already walking out the door
.
I make my way to the door, Redhead still attached to my arm like
a
lamprey. I try to make a cost benefit analysis: Probable hook-up an
d
possible sexual activity with Redhead, or definite nakedness but littl
e
chance of a hook-up at Baby Dolls. I need to pin Redhead down on ou
r
late-night activities
.
Tucker "Are you going to hang out with me later tonight. I mean, ar
e
we going to hang out after we leave here, like at your place?" My ton
e
of voice is not subtle
.
Redhead "I don't know if I can; I have to be up at lam.
"
Tucker "lam? For what?
"
Redhead "A Young Life meeting.
"
Tucker "I have to go catch up with my friends.
"
I streak out of the bar before she can even change her facial expression
.
[Aside: Young Life is a fundamentalist Christian youth group tha
t
preaches abstinence and all sorts of other ridiculous pablum. I go
t
blue-balls so many times in middle and high school dealing with thos
e
girls-NEVER AGAIN.
]
In the car on the way to Baby Dolls, PWJ explains his little adventure
:
Tucker "Dude, who the fuck was that woman you were talking to, an
d
where did she get her uniform, at a Whores-R-Us closeout sale?
"
PWJ "I don't know. She works there. She had a toy water pistol in he
r
belt ... is it wrong that that turned me on?
"
Tucker "She WORKS there? I guess no one cares if she spends thirt
y
minutes talking to you. Apparently her job is to degrade herself an
d
chat up pasty thimble-headed geeks.
"
PWJ "You don't understand ... that's not the best part. I learned he
r
philosophy of dating: 'Don't fish off the company pier, and don't fuc
k
your friends. I've tried both plenty of times and it never works' ... O
H
YEAH ... I nearly spat out my drink when she told me that she ha
s
cats rather than kids because, and I quote, 'you don't go to jail whe
n
you get your cats high.''
'
We decide that we are starting to like Texas. Baby Dolls does nothin
g
to derail our crazy train
.
Baby Dolls should be the model from which all strip clubs are cast
.
The neon glow from its trim-molding and signage can be seen fro
m
miles away. A huge pink one-story stand-alone building rising out of
a
sea of asphalt with pictures of nearly naked girls on the 4-story billboar
d
looming over it from the parking lot. The entrance is two hug
e
wooden doors adorned with brass fixtures and two NFL linebackersize
d
bouncers. It is covered by a pink awning that extends up th
e
walk about ten feet. The huge oval main stage is flanked by an enfilad
e
of four smaller side stages, each with a brass pole reaching fro
m
floor to ceiling. Mirrors cover every wall and extend to every ceiling
.
Two full bars, and two beer bars are staffed by a phalanx of femal
e
bartenders and cocktail waitresses. And MOST importantly: it's al
l
nude. No pasties. No g-strings. No crotch tape. Nothing between yo
u
and the naked, nubile flesh of attractive women ... except dollar bills
.
The girls were hot beyond hot. Dozens of incredibly beautiful and sex
y
women, each giving smiles that convey the sincerity of a single mothe
r
with rent due
.
At age 24, this was my Elysium
.
Two dancers come over almost immediately after we sit down. The ho
t
one is at least 5'10", blonde bobbed hair, smooth, almost creamy skin
,
and gorgeous fake breasts. Perfectly round and sitting high on he
r
chest. She sits on PWJ's lap
.
Stripper "So what do you do?
"
PWJ "I'm a law student.
"
Stripper "Wow ... so do you go to SMU?
"
PWJ "Not exactly ... I go to Duke.
"
She gives him a blank stare. A few seconds later, one can almost se
e
the flicker of candlelight in the thought bubble above her head
.
Stripper "You mean Duke Duke?
"
PWJ pauses and chuckles, "Yeah, Duke Duke.
"
She gives him a doubtful face, "Oh, like I've never heard this one before
.
Let me guess, you went to Harvard for college.
"
PWJ "Well, no, not exactly ...
"
PWJ went to Princeton for undergrad. I stop paying attention becaus
e
as much as I love beauty, I hate stupidity, and seeing the two combine
d
pisses me off. Plus, I need to start drinking and her nipple
s
aren't spouting vodka
.