Fashionably Profiled

Not too long ago I had the opportunity to go to Vermont with some awesome dudes for a bachelor party and got to experience a whiskey drinking, poker playing, axe throwing, cigar smoking, mountain riding, food eating, slingshot flinging, backyard luge running, deck burning, hot tub overflowing, story telling, phallic cake consuming, guy bonding, and most of all memory making; in that exact order.




Memories indeed. It was a ducking blast - Ducking is my new way to say fucking thanks to the auto-correct on my iPhone.  - and we had quite a good amount of memories and stories to tell for a long time.  For example, we burned a big ol' hole in the deck of the house that we were staying in. Not on purpose.  But it totally happened.  Oh and i got to score me some Heady Topper aka the hardest, most sought out beer to find in the east coast.  And I proudly might add its number 1 on beeradvocate.com for those playing at home.  mmm.  These are all separate blogs though.

This one,  however is about how I got fashionably profiled at a hippy bar at the ski resort in Sugarbush Vermont.

There were 8 of us. We were there for only 4 nights and we had enough luggage to not be allowed on most airlines.  It was quite the scene.  Why all the baggage you may add?  Well because we are ducking fashionably men for ducks sake!

Our last night there we decided to go out and get a nice meal and then go bar hopping around the Sugarbush area.  Most of us got pretty decked out.  A few of the guys wore ties and one in particular looked like he was auditioning for 50 Shades of Grey with his suave and svelt vest.   We looked like we were going to a fancy dinner in NYC; certainly not a restaraunt/bar in Vermont that used to be a barn. 

We were like the Reese Witherspoon character from Legally Blond in Vermont.  We really stuck out.

It first happened during dinner.  As we were laughing about memories past and making fun of Anthony's ass as it excreted toxic fumes in the restaurant that he so gallantly and carelessly released while everyone was eating, a woman got up from the table next to us to ask us a question.  Most of us immediately filled with embarrassment and were ready to apologize to our late-30-something friend who was acting like a 12 year old - not that there is anything wrong with that.  Just as I was about to say sorry, she said "What's up with you guys?  Why are you all dressed up?".  Jed, the proud bachelor, said "Its my bachelor party" in which the lady, clearly not hearing correctly what he said,  then asked "It's your fashion show?" and laughed.  We sorta looked at one another proudly and said "No a bachelor party".  She quickly walked away without responding.  Ohkaaayy.  It was probably the first time she ever saw someone wear a tie at a Vermont bar in Sugarbush.

After dinner and feeling buzzed from the phenomenal elixir called Lawson's Sip of Sunshine beer that sat in my belly, we left to go to the next bar.  The place where we had dinner, well there bar closed at 10.  Don't ask.  We thought the same thing. 

Heaven

After driving past the first bar that was closed (it was now 10:30), we quickly realized that the entire Sugarbush ski resort area closes on a Saturday night at 10PM.  My brain felt dizzy as if I just found out we were in the Matrix. 

After much googling, driving and smelling Anthony's toxic ass farts, we finally found a spot to get a few beers to cap off the night.  It was a bar that was in the Sugarbush ski village.  We saw the lights from afar and our faces all lit up.  All I thought about was the yummy delicious craft beer that I would find there on tap.  All everyone else thought about was escaping the car so they can breathe clean air instead of Anthony's ass. 

Had Anthony worn white pants...

We walked towards the bar in the sub zero temperatures.  I was dressed like I was wearing the entire 2015 JCrew winter catalog.   We walked in and immediately heard the music that was reminiscent of the Woodstock soundtrack - but more from the music that the concert goers were making and not the performers.  There in front of us was an entire bar of shaggy beard-wearing, bongo-loving, snowboard-jacket wearing, baggy-ass shirt wearing hippies that all seemed to stop and stare at the 8 men from a fashion catalog that are now intruding on their PBR drinking world.

Some old man who really looked like Shaggy (and not the rapper), just stared at me and mouthed something to me as I walked by.  I quickly smiled and held out my hand to give him a pound.  He just looked at me and did not move.  I then knew that I would have an AMAZING time at this bar.  

The 50 Shades of Gray auditioner got the first round of beers - PBR.  Boy was he so excited and boy was I sooo upset.  Seriously, Vermont is like home to some great craft beer and we are drinking PBR.  Boo me.  

I quickly drank my beer and then began to make the best of it with 50 Shades and went to the dance floor.  There I moved my body like I was partaking in a Grateful Dead concert as the bongo man on stage went on a 15 minute solo.  There were 3 hippy chicks in front of us that just stared at the skinny bongo dude with a beard and baggy jeans as if he was Adam Levine.  After quickly finishing my PBR, I decided to go to the bar to see what other beers they had on tap. 

I made my way to the empty bar to find one of the only guys in the place without a beard come over to help me.  I asked him if there were any good IPA's on tap.  He quickly recommended Fiddlehead IPA.  I have had it before so I said "sure. let me get 5".

He walked over and poured the beers.  They were in red solo cups.  Seriously.  Red solo cups.  

The bill came to 30 bucks.  I did not have anymore cash so I charged it.  

The hippy-who-couldnt-grow-a-beard-dude came back to me with the reciept for me to sign.  I did and left a 3 dollar tip, didn't think twice and walked away. 

50 Shades immediately said to me "Dude, I think the bartender is talking about you.  Yeah.  Dude.  He's totally talking trash about you."

I looked back to see the bartender, who resembles someone from Jackass, speaking to the other bartender with a face that he is clearly talking shit about me.  Just then, he looks at me and says "10%? Nice".

I was confused for a second.  Did the dude who looks like he sits outside of the bar to ask for change just call me out for only tipping 10%?? 

I said nothing.  My heart rate elevated but I kept my cool and continued to watch our bachelor party contenders playing Foosball against each other.  The smell of Anthony's ass was in the air.

A few minutes later, 50 Shades says to me "Dude, he is STILL talking about you.  Now to a guy at the bar!"

I look over and see the hobo bartender talking to someone who looks like his twin, except with a beard.  They both look at me and then look away. 

I walk over to the bartender and his drug rep and say (all tough in my JCrew apparel), "Dude, you got a ducking problem with me??!"

He then quizzed me on my tipping protocol.  I was stunned.  He asked me if I usually tip only 10% on a $30 check.  

What was I supposed to say in this situation so I said "You reached over, grabbed 5 cups, walked 5 feet, and poured the lever 5 times.  I am sorry.  Were you expecting more?"

And then he said it, "You know.  I saw this cool looking, good dressed dude coming over and I thought to myself 'This guy has got class'.  But now i realize that you don't".  

Shocked and stunned I paused and then said "You know it's gonna be pretty awkward now when you get our drinks for us and nobody tips you".  In which he responded and very cleverly I might add, "Yeah. It is going to be very awkward when I come back from the bathroom with your drinks!"

I laughed and, to be quite honest, was quite jealous of that comeback.  Dam it was good.  I said "Dude, please.  I gave you 3 bucks. I did not have to give you shit.  You poured a few beers. I am not going to give you a dollar for every 6 dollar beer you poured.  If you mixed a drink thats a different story.  Give me a break man."  Who the fuck says 'give me a break'.  Ughhh.. i was totally losing.  But I was pissed and he can tell. (in hindsight i totally tipped like shit but i will never admit it - this is my inner voice)

What would have been my next round

It was then he started to do the oh-its-ok-thing and started asking me where I was from.  But the damage was done.  I was fashionably profiled.  He thought that because of my wonderfully fitted shawl sweater, with the sailor wood button that sat freely open on my lapel, and the tightly fitted - but not too tight - summerweight chinos, that so perfectly showed my muscular lower physique, paired nicely with my chukka boots revealed under the cleverly folded pant bottom, along with the side part and the slight undercut and smile I proudly wore, he thought that he was going to get like a 10 dollar tip!  I felt like a piece of meat on display.  

It's safe to say that we did not get refills on our beers.  Instead we walked out of that bar with our heads up high and made our way back to the house where we engaged in more cigar smoking and axe throwing and Anthony's ass smelling to end a perfect bachelor party. 

However, I will forever rememember this bachelor party as the night I was fashionably profiled.  And you know what:  It felt dam good!!

Im pretty certain this was my outfit.