Milwaukee's finest

I love weekends.

I love weekends in the summer.

I love weekends in the summer not only because it provides a freedom to take spontaneous adventures not always possible during the school year due to the lack of responsibility my friends and I are able to enjoy for 4 consecutive months, but because it is a proven fact that Milwaukee's finest inhabitants (and when I say finest you can insert any adjective other than finest and end up with a more accurate description) start coming out of the woodwork after hibernating for the 8 long months of winter.

Here are all of the friends we made yesterday:

• The bro who, in an attempt to impress the girl in the passenger seat who was much too attractive to be sitting in his passenger seat, got into a fight with us over a coveted parking spot at the beach because he was 100% convinced he could fit his 12 foot long car into the 7 remaining feet of space IF my friend pulled up far enough to touch bumpers with the car in front of her. We were surprised her car wasn't keyed when we returned.

• Those two fine gentlemen who won the prize for "who can make me feel trashiest at 3 PM on a Saturday afternoon" in the ONE BLOCK span I had to walk alone back to my apartment after my beach adventure... I wasn't in the mood to see a carnival so I didn't even turn around when I heard a series of honks, whistles, and dog barking passing me on the street. Due to the fact that I'm not fluent in douchebag, I didn't realize there was no carnival until I saw two middle-aged men fly by me on souped up mopeds. There was no dog either. Those noises really did come out of their human mouths.
  

• The upstanding gentleman who had his prize for Jagbag of Saturday stripped from his fingers by the moped riders...

Bars are an adventure regardless if we decide to stay on campus or go downtown. If we're on campus, there's a good chance the bouncer is so bored that he feels the need to quiz me about my REAL ID, because Arizona forms of identification are apparently suspicious, even though he and I have been playing this same game every week since November, and I still present the same ID, it's still real, when he asks me for my middle initial I still get annoyed at the simplicity of his quiz question because 1) my ID is real and 2) that is way too easy of a test if you're trying to catch me having a fake because, well, my ID is real and that type of question results in an escalation of my sassiness and I feel the need to recite everything on my license until he gets annoyed with me and lets me in. (Note: this dog and pony show always occurs after he scans it and the little scanner tells him it's real)

I apologize, because that's all beside the point. We went downtown where the issue is not getting in because they believe me when I present my real ID that has been real for 8 months, but rather the incredible magnetic field that spontaneous develops around me as soon as I enter for the most abrasively inappropriate 28+ male that is present in the bar at that moment. I almost lost a valued asset thanks to this treasure of a guy, because someone misinformed him that "Hi, my name is _____," should be replaced by the much more successful tactic of grabbing my a%& SO HARD that I had to do a quick check to make sure it was all still there before addressing his dumbfounded look that I wasn't particularly interested in sitting down for a chat after that. What makes this so funny is the frequency of butt grabbing I experience is exponentially higher than any of my friends'. One of my best girls experienced a butt grab the following night and she gasped and told me what happened. It turns out that mine getting grabbed multiple times a night is abnormal and not only do I not understand why it's me more than other girls, but I should probably be doing more biyotch slapping than I do.

Oh, night life...so klassy.

I make myself sound like such a martyr. Not all experiences are like that. Here were my two favorite new "friends" I made yesterday:

• The guy at the beach who walked past us burying one of our friends in the sand (see above) who I could tell was fascinated either with our incredible artistic gift for sand sculpting or the fact that we were probably the only people over the age of 12 burying someone in the sand and having such a blast doing it, and as he walked by staring very intensely I said to him,
  

"You know, he's standing up too."

"No way."

"Yep."

[He walked the next 25 feet down the beach continually looking back at us and every time he glanced I gave him a nod as reassurance that I wasn't feeding him complete bull even though I was. Then he and his friend stopped, looked back, and had a very serious conversation while staring at us and then I couldn't take it. I just started laughing.]

• My second favorite person was the guy who tried to convince me I was stealing his cab last night.
  

"Hey, that's my cab."

"Hmmm...no it's not." I could tell this was a wily chap, but I knew I had as much right to that cab as he did, especially since he was standing 15 feet away.

"Yeah it is."

"Really? Did you call for it?" I wasn't sure if he had called for it because then yes, I suppose it would be his cab more than mine.

"Nope."

"Ok then." I started to get in next to my friend who was waiting along with the cab driver listening to this worthless exchange of words. And who knows, people make their own rules in this city and the cabbie could have been charging me for that stagnant waste of his time.

"Wanna split it?" This guy was not a creeper, just annoying, and since I hate paying for cabs I decided to entertain this idea for a second.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Wherever you're going."

I just chuckled, gave him a cutesy wave, and got in my overpriced ride home.