I Shit You Not

So Saturday night, Heathclaire called me asking if I want to go out with her and her out-of-town visitors.

I met them at one of my favorite KC Spots, Vivace aka the IceBar. They had a little late dinner and martinis. I had a few cocktails, and then it was off to Zen (Tao) also formerly known as the Grand Emporium (which also is the place where I saw John Legend before he was a Legend, and my debit card was thieved.)

Got all of that?

OK, we get there, pay the cover, and head to the dance floor. It's packed, and I mean ridiculously packed. So full that I felt like I stepped in an 8x8 sauna with 50 people I didn't know. To make things worse, they were all throwing bows.

It was 1999 college daze all over again. So we left the dance floor, went to the bar and indulged in a few shots of Patron (it always gets you right for the wrong situation - i.e., this one). We tried the dance floor again, but there were too many impolite people flinging body parts - including size Double G breasts that some woman made touch the floor - around the spot.

Needless to say, we went back to the quiet, chill bar. Things remained calm for a while until I saw my fifth or sixth Halloween costume. It was a white guy in a white sailor's outfit, which included a set of male daisy dukes.

He got his drink with his female companion and then walked away from the bar, and then we saw it. What was it? It was this unmistakable shit stain on the back of this dude's shorts.

I shit - no pun - you not. The color left was an opacity-full brown that confirmed that he didn't even have on underwear to protect himself.

I looked at one of Heathclaire's friends. She looked at me, and we embraced in a hug and laughter about what we had witnessed.

We didn't say a word until the dude was out of sight, and then we told our party what we had just seen.

And no, we didn't tell him about it. I didn't know him, so I had no reason. What an interesting way to kick of the Halloween week, huh?