The following is a sordid story of alcoholism, mental health problems, Five Points, a trip to the drunk tank, violence, synthesizer based music, a hippie concert venue, madness, dreadlocks, pain and wonder.
I have long suspected that black cops don't like the word "nigger" being used by a white person, but that was just a theory. Now it's been tested empirically by rowtow.com associate, Alex.
Last night was the Crystal Castles concert at
Cervantes Masterpiece Ballroom in
Five Points, which for those of you not hip to the
ethnography of the city of Denver is "
the Hood", an area where black people live and the crime rate is reputably higher. The Rowtow Crew (Cy, bascule, golgo and I) had been awaiting the concert of electro rock band
Crystal Castles for weeks, ever since I had hipped them up to the band, and we were very excited to see them play Cervantes, despite its location in the not-so-desirable Five Points neighborhood.
Golgo and I arrived at the venue with my girlfriend and her sister around the time that doors were supposed to open for the show. After buying tickets and entering, we waited for Cy to arrive, as he was running late. He finally arrived right as the first opening band was finishing, bringing with him his friend Alex.
Alex, for those not in the know, is a completely belligerent drunk and Cy acts as an
enabler to his dysfunction. Cy was doing his best to buy all of his friends far too many drinks that night, even ordering me, the DD for the evening, a double vodka tonic that i didn't even ask for. The liquid courage quickly melted what little logical faculties Alex possessed and he was starting arguments post haste.
The first target for Alex's ire was the barkeep on duty. Either her or the barback, or even a patron made a glass of a 90% drank vodka tonic that Alex had set down on the bar disappear. Alex noticed this many minutes after the fact and started screaming at the top of his lungs "BARKEEP! BARKEEP! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY DRINK?!" with a murderous look in his eyes, embarrassing everyone.
The night wore on with many Alex flareups that are too minor to mention except to say they were numerous. As Crystal Castles took the stage, my girlfriend and I went to the front door to notify Cy, who was outside smoking with Alex that the concert had started. We never even got outside the club because blocking the door was a hysterical Alex and a hippie
bouncer the size of a coke machine. Alex was so angry i couldn't even make out what he was saying, it just came out as annoyed grunts and screams. He was constantly flipping off the bouncer and swinging his arms like
Grover from Sesame Street. My GF and I took one look at this and headed back into the club. Cy later filled me in that the bouncer indeed kicked Alex's ass.
Crystal Castles played an excellent show, a review of which may be forthcoming. However, the real story of the night is Alex's adventures post-
86'ing and beatdown by the Bouncer.
In Alex's own words, he wandered to his car and was assaulted by two black men, who clocked him on the head, knocking his ass out cold. He came to find that he was missing his pre-paid cellphone, car/house keys and his (empty) wallet. The muggers, who must be kicking themselves now, got a $15 7-11 cellphone and a wallet containing nothing but Alex's driver's license. They committed the robbery equivalent of raping a nymphomaniac, but much less enjoyable.
Alex shook himself awake and dusted off his battered body. He then spotted two Denver city police officers walking beat several blocks away. He ran up to them hysterically shouting "TWO NIGGERS JUST MUGGED ME!!!"
Unfortunately for Alex, at least one of the Denver's Finest on the scene was black as well and took the racial slur, let's say, not very well. The situation degraded into an argument followed by another beating and then a trip to the
drunk tank. Apparently they forced also Alex to listen to
Smooth Jazz 104.3 FM the entire way to detox as well, adding insult to a night of grievous injury.
Alex's night in
detox was surprisingly uneventful, what with him having a frequent customer's card there (second time this month) and knowing the drill, Alex didn't push the people there too hard. He spent the night chilling with a Denver public schools teacher and a preppily dressed Mexican in the cell.
At 11am he was declared to be sober and discharged.
He had to break into his own apartment as he lacked keys to gain legit entry.
Coda:
The group of us reconvened at local Greek eatery
Chef Zorba's to discuss the evening's events and to try and make some sense of what happened at lunch the day after. Alex arrived by a cab that Cy had to pay for and told us his story. He then announced his plans to "
go Travis Bickle, shave my head into a mohawk and shit" and return to Five Points for unknown vigilante activities.
His car was found to be missing upon return there, whether stolen or towed is unknown at this point.
