"Where the fuck were you for New Years?" I ask him.
"The same place you were, dickless."
He's talking about Thursday's, some bar in downtown Montreal that I thought sucked but other folks thought was decent. I think I thought it sucked because I was just so drunk, and I'm uncomfortable pretty much anywhere after twelve hourse of drinking.
"We got into a fight at that bar, that club thing we were at. This guy there called me the worst person ever."
"So I hit him."
He started a bar clearing brawl because someone called him the worst person ever?
"Frank, he didn't fucking say that. What kind of guy fucking says that?"
He smiles. "Nah, he never said that. I just felt like starting a fight. I'm just gonna tell people he mouthed off to me because I don't want to look like an asshole. Anyway, me and Bulletproof were back to back on New Year's Eve, throwing haymakers and swinging for the fences."
I'd be lying if I said that I really wouldn't have loved to be involved in this, being as it's been a year or so since I got into a good fight, and a couple since I really slugged a guy in anger.
"You should have called me," I say.
"Well it wasn't the first thing on my mind. I was kind of trying to keep myself alive. I kept finding the same fuckin kid and hitting him in the face...there'd be a bunch of people rolling around and wrestling, and then I'd just see this kid's head pop up again and BANG. Right in the mouth again. Eventually we made our way to Thursday's where you guys were."
I found out later on that we got into a fight at Thursday's also, but I was miraculously MIA at that point, and I have no idea where I was for that time. One of my buddies got hit with a beer bottle and his girlfriend went after the guy, at which point some cop gave her a fat lip and held her by the throat against the wall. Like a champion, this skinny blond girl was howling, "Fuck Canada" with whatever breath she had left.