Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

Getting awesome with Tommy Up

By Tommy Up
Add Comment Add Comment | Comments: 0 | Posted Feb. 24, 2009

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I think getting banned from clubs for life is the new getting into clubs without waiting. I'm serious. If I'm being dragged into some place I hate, it's my duty to ensure I'm never allowed back inside.

I've been kicked out of cheesy bottle-service clubs in Philly, Manhattan and Miami, beach bars in Margate, a pool hall/bagel shop in Tallahassee, an after-hours spot while dressed like a Hooters girl on Halloween and way too many other places to list here.

One night, though, does stand out.

I'm training for a job with a marketing company in Boston, a city I hate almost upon arrival. They have a big company night out and take about 150 of us to this huge nightclub on top of an arcade bar. Apparently in Boston it's not considered abnormal to put a nightclub atop an arcade and restaurant.

I know I'm going to quit and leave the city ASAP, so I'm pretty damn relaxed--like someone with a terminal yet painless illness who knows he's leaving the planet soon. I'm working the room. I'm buying rounds of shots for tourists. I'm offering the CEO suggestions. Keep in mind I've been employed at this point for about five days.

The company outing degenerates into a drunken mess, and for some insane reason most of us wander downstairs and start playing skee ball. I'm pretty good at it, and I win a stuffed toy--one of those "Yo quiero Taco Bell" chihuahuas. I'm not sure if someone dares me or I just have an awesome idea, but the chihuahua winds up down my pants with its head sticking out of the zipper. Everyone's laughing, lunging at me and trying to pull the little guy out. I'm twisting away trying to avoid them, and I jump on top of a barstool.

That's when I see the bouncer's face. His expression isn't so much anger as pure childlike astonishment. Then it turns into pure anger. Three bouncers grab me and start carrying me out on their shoulders. The CEO is running after me and trying to clasp my hand. He's yelling, "Don't worry, buddy! I'm gonna have their asses!"

I smile politely at him and give him a little thumbs-up right as my head slams into the exit door. Boston, how l miss you.

Holla at party thrower and subversive marketing genius Tommy Up at tommyup@philadelphiaweekly.com

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