Surfing Ruined My Life

Every year Santa Barbara throws a giant five day/night street party downtown for Fiesta.  It is basically our version of Mardi Gras, although we celebrate pretty hard for the real one in March too.  Ok, lets face it, Santa Barbara can celebrate a Wednesday hard.  It does not take much of an excuse to get this town made up of a majority of alcoholics to break it down.

Fiesta is the end all be all for the SB party scene.  A few years back there was this gang shooting down there.  I was trashed and just remember people stampeding past me screaming and yelling.  Then some cop tackled me screaming, “You have to get out of here its not safe”.  I was laughing the entire time.  There are some situations in life where being a bit faded works to one’s advantage or in my case a lot of bit faded.

After that year I took a few off from Fiesta.  During those years apparently there were stabbings and other gang related issues. Also ever since the shooting the town has stepped up they’re game having police everywhere.  The place looks like it is under marshal law.   It is definitely better then the alternative when the gangs used to always ruin everything.

First Night

This year being that my new roommate had never experienced a Fiesta before I felt it my personal duty to show the guy a fun time.  I had just got out of a three hour band rehearsal and for whatever reason felt like a night of heavy drinking.  I got home busted out the handle of rum in my freezer and emptied it.  Then on the walk down I stopped by JJ’s this ghetto ass liquor store and filled my pockets with eight little airplane bottles of Sailor Jerry’s.

I gave my Roommate, Nick, two and downed the rest through out the night.  By 11pm I was gone, so drunk.  I found myself stumbling around the Presidio, lost Nick, ran into my friend Ryan from OC and some other guys I used to roll with and was dragged into the beer Garden.  After that I have no recollection of anything else that happened.  I thought I was gone for 15 minutes, only later to be informed by Nick that I went missing for nearly two hours.  I find a good black out on occasion to be invigorating.

Saturday Night Lets have a Bar Fight!

 Nick wanted to roll out and try to meet up this chick he thought he could score with.  I had my doubts, but having nothing better to do I accompanied him downtown.  I had some friends at Dargan’s and figured I would just mossie over there.  State St. was packed full of people.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the place so busy.  Every club and bar was hopping.  Nick and I cruised around a bit before going our separate ways.

I went into Dargan’s only to find out that one of my friends swooped and was gone already and my remaining two were over it and going home.  They got me a drink in their haste to leave as a consolation prize, A Jack and Coke, c’mon people for an extra UCB half point: What is the official drink of Lisanti Land and for another half point what is my preferred brand?  First person to get the right answer in the comments wins.  Then I was about to leave myself when some random guy handed me a beer and said he had an extra one cause his bud split.  I am never one to look a free drink in the mouth, let alone two.

Dargan’s is an Irish pub and definitely not my scene, but on this night there was this crazy funk band playing.  The group was five pieces plus two horns, all black guys, so you know the shit was authentic.  I was super into it and after I finished my beer got down on the dance floor.  Nothing is better then a night of good music and dancing.

I was having a blast doing my dance thing when this huge black lady decides to get up in there with me.  Now I have no prejudice when I’m getting my groove on just as long as you can keep up.  All of a sudden this big black guy grabs her arm and says “Marla what you doin?!?”.  She yells “leave it be Leroy” turns and slaps him in the face.  I busted out laughing, which further exacerbated the situation causing Leroy to swing at me.

I ducked, although a bit intoxicated my wits were still about me.  The intended assault caught the Mexican dude dancing with his lady behind me right in the side of the face.  He was none to happy about this.  In retaliation he lunged at Leroy pushing me aside.  They went at it pretty hardcore.  One of Leroy’s buddies came to his aid and two other Mexican guys jumped in to help out their boy.

Next thing I know I was standing right smack in the middle of a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  People were screaming and running out the doors. Drinks were dropped, the band stopped playing and yelled for security, who could not get through the panicking crowd.  What was I doing through all this you ask?  Mostly laughing my head off and drinking whatever un-spilt cocktails that were jettisoned in everyone’s frantic sprint for the door.  I guess everyone expected another shooting.  A fight between Mexicans and blacks can only mean trouble after all.

It was hilarious.  I full on accidentally started a bar fight. Yet did not throw one punch or get hit.  Finally the cops came rushing in and arrested everyone involved.  Luckily by that point I had slinked off into the shadows and out of sight.  Security cleared the place. The band counted off and stuck another groove.  All was well. I jumped back on the floor and enjoyed the rest of my night.  The best thing was that I had just recently told Nick that I really wanted to get into a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  Check that one off the list! That my friends is how you step in shit and come out smelling like roses.  If you are going to get into a bar fight it might as well be in an Irish bar even if it involved two black guys, three Mexicans and one ridiculous Italian.  No Irish necessary.  Sounds like the whole ordeal could have been the punchline for some bad racist joke.