Shoot the Hostage: Part Deux.1

I mentioned before about the experience that made me realize that it's possible for women to be smooth. So I suppose it's only fitting that I would now tell you about the experience that proved to me that guys don't have a monopoly on annoying and boorish behavior, either.

Last Thursday, I was having a drink with a few friends on a rooftop bar in Arlington. As it turned out, it was an eminently pleasant night -- one that really didn't belong in the DC area in July. The humidity was low, the temperature was moderate, Ryan was bringing me beers, and the company was good. I was sitting at a table near the railing at edge of the roof and talking with my friends Mike and Jenn. This wasn't one of those obscenely loud bars where you have to shout to talk to the person next to you. We were able to converse at normal volumes. I don't really know what we were talking about, but it could have been anything from whether guys really like Asian women to making up bold and ludicrous lies about each other's deviant sexual practices. It was really somewhat innocuous, standard bar talk. But it didn't last too long.

Suddenly, our conversation was interrupted by a bottle of beer and a small purse being thunked down on our table, followed by their owner asking, "DO YOU MIND IF I PUT THESE HERE FOR A MINUTE?" Startled mute by the unnecessary volume of her question, we all kind of shook our heads as she started digging into her purse and started having what might have been the loudest cell phone conversation ever. I don't know why she bothered with the electronics, as I'm sure the other person could have heard her without using the phone. This conversation went something like this:

"BLAH BLAH BLAH WHATEVER BLAH BLAH BLAH MY BOYFRIEND ... [pause] ... BLAH BLAH BLAH MY BOYFRIEND'S NOT COMING HERE HE'S IN COLLEGE PARK BLAH BLAH NO WAY I'M GOING TO COLLEGE PARK BLAH BLAH BLAH..."

Jenn, Mike, and I tried to go back to our conversation, but we couldn't seem to talk over this woman's conversation. We were looking at each other, half gaping and half grinning about the improbability of the situation and the sheer bumptiousness of this chick.

[Aside: Since I know some of you can think of nothing else, I will say that I don't really remember what the girl looked like. The image of her is completely clouded by the experience. I can say that she was blonde, and when she first came over, I thought she was not bad looking.]

Her conversation seemed to go on forever, but it was probably more like 5 minutes. At some point while it was going on, Ryan returned to the table with beers for everyone. Around that time, I started thinking that this was quite possibly the loudest and single most annoying woman on the face of the planet. To put it mildly, I wanted her to leave. At that point, I had a brainstorm. I could get her to leave! I'm quite adept at chasing women away, often without trying or even wanting them to go. If I concentrated on it a little bit, I could have her out of here in a jiffy.

I kind of smiled about it and eyed her purse, saying to Mike (although struggling to talk over the new chick's yammering), "Should I just throw her purse off the roof?"

He looked longingly at the nearby railing, laughed and said, "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you do."

I was seriously interested now, but I hesitated for some reason. "A hundred and ten," Mike offered. I couldn't pass that up. However, at that moment, the annoying girl got off the phone grabbed her purse, and ended my chance to get rid of her and make some money in the process.

---

Maybe the girl took our bemused and aghast looks as inviting ones, because she started talking to us. Something she said after about 30 seconds inspired me to say, "Well, if you're gonna come over here to get on the phone and talk about your boyfriend, that's not something we especially want to hear." I thought that would irk her enough to send her packing. Instead, she started off with, "MY BOYFRIEND IS GREAT -"

At that point, Ryan interrupted, pointing out, "But he's not worth a trip to College Park?"

"Well, you know, that's College Park. You know how it is. It's way up there in College Park." [I'm abandoning the caps because 1) she toned it down a tiny notch and 2) I can't stand them.]

"But your boyfriend can't be all that great if you won't even travel to the other side of the Beltway for him," I argued.

She started to respond, "My boyfriend is so great. He was my best friend for over a year, while I was dating models and rich lawyers and that sort of thing..." [No I am not making that up. She really said it.]

I was sure this gave me the key to her exit. A little Chris Rock would be sure to send her away. "So he's an emergency dick," I said. Jenn gaped at me. Mike nearly spit out his beer.

"WHAT???!!! NO! He's not an emergency dick! What does that even mean?"

"Well, you were dating models and rich lawyers while he was your best friend, probably listening to you complain about how they didn't treat you right. He was like a dick in a glass case. You know: break only in case of emergency."

I thought that was decently offensive and definitely not inviting of more conversation, but she thought she needed to argue the point, starting out with, "No, it's more like I recognized what was right there before my eyes."

"Oh, don't go all Survivor on me," I said, somewhat incredulously. She then proceeded to engage the rest of the group in lots of talking about why her boyfriend was great, how he was definitely not an emergency dick, and how there was no way she would go to College Park to see him because everyone needs some time to themselves and "if he wants to see me, he can come here, you know?" This went on for a very long time. Actually, it could have been only two minutes, but it seemed like a very long time. She didn't really give me much of an opening for a while. However, everyone else at the table was subtly clubbing her the whole time.

After a while, she said, "I feel like you guys think I'm retarded. It's like you're all laughing at me like I'm retarded." [Yes, she said 'retarded.' More than once in the same paragraph.]

There it was: an opening. I needed to choose wisely. Last time, I invited argument. I was too subtle. I decided to try a more direct attack this time: "So why don't you leave?"

That had to do it, right? Surely, no one would stick around after being treated to that kind of rudeness. Right? Wrong! She stuck around. I have no idea what she said in response. I was too dumbfounded that she didn't walk away in a huff. I went back to eyeing her purse (which she wouldn't put back on the table) and pondering the situation. She eventually left. I have no idea how or why. Naturally, she was replaced shortly thereafter by another girl who was trying to come across as the cool, saucy chick, but who mostly impressed us as someone who just would not shut the hell up. All in all, it was a tough night to be sober.

To bring the post's title back into play here, I was the hostage in this scenario. If it were you, would you shoot yourself? How would you get her to leave? What do you do?