last night, in da club (as we like to say on da eastside, across the river), two 'o clock am sharp, i was once again confronted with one of LA's most absurdly executes laws: no alcohol after two.
don't get me wrong, i do understand the apparent necessity for this rule. after all, we don't want all them drunkards hittin' the road all at once, creating rampage on the asphalt. stop at two, give them another two hours to cool down and everybody is happy.
it itches in the implementation of the rule.
cut. back to the club, 2 am. i am enjoying my freshly purchased coke, when this guy, type muscle brain, walks up to me and asks me if i am going to drink the drink. it goes a little something like this:
him, big guy > you gonna drink that?
me, small guy > i thought so, yeah.
big guy > now?
small guy > well, i'd like to take my time...
big guy > now?
small guy > you want me to down it? i can't down a glass of coke on command, it's nasty.
big guy > it's the law, if not, the cops show up and close the joint down. so give it.
small guy > the law is nasty.
now the big guy takes the coke from the small guy and tosses it in the trash.
i love this country.
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see: the DFA DJ tour 2007
watch: best in show (2000)
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