The Jacksonville Summit Part 6: The Rapture

How fitting that in the closing moments of May 20, 2011, minutes before the world was supposedly destined to succumb to the apacalypse, that I would find myself in the penthouse suite of a legend on a balcony overlooking the beautiful St. Johns River and a Jacksonville, Florida skyline now exploding with fireworks, drunk off my ass.

A far cry from the trailer park in Jacksonville, Illinois were I had began life. If this was to be the end, then I had accepted in my own mind that I had gone out on top. I was content with the satisfaction of knowing that even if for only the briefest of moments I had lived to see myself as something more then just a bitter under-achieving slacker.

With a few ticks on the clock remaining until Judgement Day I had managed to say some goodbyes to friends, call a cab, run back upstairs to put away my bottle (which I had been drinking strait from for the last few minutes), drenched myself in about ten sprays of Roca-Wear cologne and rush back downstairs to order another Hennessy and Coke from the bar in a to-go cup so I wouldn't miss my cab.

In the months prior to my trip I had researched the local nightlife and at the last minute had discovered a club not to far from my hotel called The Pearl that was hosting a, "Zombie Night". My kind of place.

Even better was that for a $10 admission fee I was given a wristband and told it was all I could drink. A challenge I was eager to accept.

I mean, I don't think this place knew what they were up against. In St. Pete my friends know how to play hide the bottle from John, because although I don't drink all that often, when I do I have no problem killing it as quickly as possible before anybody else even has the chance to catch a buzz off of that bitch. Given a little more time I might have even drank this establishment out of business single handedly.

As I inched my way to the front of the line at the bar, I had instinctually leaned over with a fist full of dollars, apparently a no-no in Jacksonville because the bartender began screaming, "get the fuck off of my goddamn bar, who the fuck do you think you are? You're making me nervous! What do you want?". The only coherent response I could give was a drunken smirk and a, "Coke and Hennessy please".

It was obvious at this point that I didn't like him and he didn't like me, "are you out of your fucking mind that isn't apart of the special? That shit is like $9 a shot!" he screamed. "I didn't ask you for your special, just give me my drink", I responded.

Not wanting to succumb to my request and allow me the satisfaction of looking like some type of high roller in a room packed to the brim with broke college kids, he grabbed a glass, scooped some ice and made me the strongest whiskey and Coke of my life! "Shut up and drink this" he said.

I went back to the bar four, maybe five more times that night and each drink was stronger then the last. I could see it in his eyes that he was recieving some type of sick gratification out of trying to kill me with alchohal poisoning, and I was recieving it right back by continuosly saying, "better luck next time, chump" everytime tossed a empty plastic cup on the dance floor.

In between stints at the bar and frequent trips to the restroom, I had managed to work my way around the room and make a few friends, but mostly enemies. One girl was nice enough tell me, "girls like guys with watches that tick" in reference to the dead battery in my Roca Wear watch. Another followed with, "black shirts are out of style", ouch.

But the cool thing about being drunk on Hennessy (I don't know about other shit cause I don't drink it) is that rejection eventually becomes a form of flattery, with great risk comes even greater rewards and although twenty bucked tooth heffers might try to break your ego down to the size of a needle tip, one broad will come along to make the whole night worth it.

Obliterated beyond recognition, I leaned against a piling near the dance floor and plotted my next move.

With no signs of the rapture haven taken place inside the club that night, the DJ through on REM's "It's The End Of The World As We Know It", and the entire room including myself went nuts! The sight of three hundred sweaty drunks, some in zombie make-up bouncing in sync with fists pumping towards the sky in celebration that we have narrowly survived the return of Christ is truly a scene to behold.

The scariest part of inebriation is the blacking out. I was snapped out of one such blackout by a tall, well proportioned black chick with a shaved head who was motioning me over to her. For some reason alot of black girls in Jacksonville have their heads shaved, either I don't get out enough in Tampa Bay or this is a regional trend that hasn't made it's way south yet.

"You're the cutest guy in this bar, you can have any girl you want, STOP TALKING TO MY GIRLFRIEND!" Needless to say I wasn't expecting that one. How I didn't fall onto the floor in a fit of laughter is beyond me, when I looked up to the site of her girlfriend, not only was I in a state of shock over how spectacular her smile was but that I had continued uncontrollably to keep trying to smooth talk her even after being politely asked not too.

As 2am crept closer, the crowds filed somberly out of the front door and just as I was about to call it a night, the sexiest blonde haired, green eyed she devil in all of hell approached me and initiated a conversation. About what I have no idea, but I somehow coherently gave her my phone number and vice versa.

Although still conscious inside of my head, I had no choice but to watch as my body moved foreward on it's own accord. Wherever it led me I was forced to follow.

Rather then calling a cab like I had originally planned, my feet decided they could take me back to the hotel safely and for a cheaper rate. I drifted through crowds, followed along sidewalks and eventually down an alley until I was completely alone in the middle of the city.

When I reached the corner of what I remember being Bay and Church St (?) I pulled out my cell phone and finally dialed the cab. The only response I can recall was an angry voice on the other end of the line saying, "sir, you keep calling and telling us you are in Orlando or Jacksonville or something, we cannot come and pick you up from St. Petersburg!", whoops.

A normal person might have freaked out at this point and panic'd. For me all of time had stopped at the corner of that intersection and I was completely at peace. The streets and buildings were a matted grey tone, the only movement came from the changing colors of stop lights.

Here I was the only man in the heart of the city, surrounded by skyscrapers and feeling as though I were the last man on earth. The whole world had turned quiet and black, as though everybody had floated up to heaven and didn't invite me.

From out of nowhere a cab, or what I thought at the time was a cab, came speeding from out of nowhere before spotting me and slamming on their breaks, screeching into the middle of the intersection.

Without hesitation I hopped in and before I knew it realized I was in a vehicle with a little black dude and a chick in the passengers seat. We talked, had a few laughs and the driver even told me that he was cousins with Fred Williamson, which I doubt.

At night all of Jacksonville feels as though it is highlighted by this neon blue light, especially on the bridges. It adds this futuristic feel to the city.

Next thing I remember I was standing near the entrance of the hotel, drunk as a skunk next to the cab holding this petite little black chick in a striped mini skirt by her ass cheeks.

Don't ask me how it got to that point because I am still trying myself to figure that one out, but I do recall saying, "aye, look sweety, you come up to my room and let me fuck you I promise that I'll pay you child support if anything happens". I think that might have been the selling point because after telling me to, "hang on a second", she went over to the cab and I remember her telling the dude to come pick her up in a hour or two.

When she came back over and wrapped her skinny little arms around me I remember pushing her away and saying, "look I have a confession to make", she looked at me puzzled and I followed up with, "I have the worlds smallest dick, I mean it's super small and you don't need to be fuckin around with somebody like me".

She pushed me off of her, looked me in the eyes and said, "baby I don't care about that". Which sucks for me cause I think I was counting on that line to get me out of the situation. I'm pretty sure this bitch was looking forward to that child support check showing up every month.

By the grace of god, I don't know how it happend but the next thing I can recall is her going back to the cab to tell the driver something, me saying, "fuck this I'm going to sleep", and waking up the next day with a story to tell wondering how the hell I competently made it back to room 418 alive.

Lampin Gets Guest Contributor!!!

Good evening friends. By now many of you have had the fortunate experience of meeting me personally, while the rest of you may have only heard of me through legend and simply feel as though we have crossed paths before. Yes, I of course am John's much beloved and talked about infamous penis.

I come to you this evening inspired by recent events taking place in the fine state of Wisconsin (trust me, you don't even want to hear the cheesehead story) and have decided that not only am I going on a temporary labor strike, but to announce that I have also become a member of a local union that exist to protect hard working guys like me from unsavory characters like my boss.

The reality though, is that I enjoy my profession a great deal and take my craft very seriously. All I am asking for is that I am finally given proper safety equipment and to stop being exposed to hazardous environments. The hours suck, I am overworked and underpaid with very little time to rest in between brutally labor intensive shifts. I'd like some healthcare benefits and a little vacation time would be nice every now and again too.

Unfortunately my boss is a real jerk. The guy has very little regard for his own safety let alone mine. Do you have any idea what it's like being trapped down there all day? I'm the only guy on the planet who can be locked in the dark and still look and feel as though I have gotten a sun burn. This is fuckin bullshit.

For example, this is a recent exchange during a trip to the free clinic on a Monday morning after a wild weekend of hard boozing and beating up trim.

Time: 7 am

Location: Free Clinic.

A clearly hungover John limps to the back of an already long line full of impregnated skeezoids and baby mama's getting WIC. The young lady infront of him catches his eye.

John: Good morning.

Girl: Good morning.

John: So what are you in for this morning?

Girl: I'm here for my WIC check, get away from me you fucking creep!

The door opens and the line files into the initial waiting room. There's a lady handing out forms and paper work at the entrance.

John: Good morning, maam.

Lady: Oh, boy. Again?

John: Well, You know how it goes. It was first Friday.

Lady: Geez louis buddy. Just wait here a second.

John: It's ok I know the routine, just hand me the forms and I'll go have a seat.

Lady: No, no. Please, just wait here a second. Hang on.

The lady goes to her desk to make a phone call to the doctor.

Doctor: Hello, Dr. Miguel speaking.

Lady: Yes, Doctor Miguel, he's back!

Doctor: For the love of god, man. Please, hold for a minute.

The doctor proceeds to bow his head and mutter some sort of spanish prayer under his breath. Then grabs a stool and walks over to the cabinet. He pushes some boxes and supplies out of the way, reaches way to the back and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Takes a huge swig, shakes his head and walks back to the phone.

Doctor: Ok, send him back. I'm ready now.

Lady: Yes, sir.

Lady goes over to John.

Lady: The doctor will see you now, sir.

John: Sweet, a guy could get spoiled by such speedy service. Hope you guys work this quickly the next time I'm in here.

Lady: Good god! This isn't an express pass, sir.

John enters the room, he reaches out his hand to greet the doctor.

Doctor: Oh, umm, one second.

The doctor picks up a latex glove and places it over his hand before he shakes Johns hand.

Doctor: Ok, how can I help you this morning?

John: Well, (details are censored).

Doctor: Ouch, what happened to the last five packages of free condoms we gave you? Don't you ever get sick of coming into this dump?

John: Oh those, I trade them to cab drivers in exchange for rides to the bar.

Doctor: Sigh. Let me examine it.

John pulls down his pants.

John: Before you look, doc, keep in mind it's kind of cold outside today and I'm a little shy.

Doctor: This is quite unique to say the least, never seen one that looks like this before. Where the hell have you been shoving this thing? The reds, the blues, the swirls. It is all very avant garde. I don't know whether to treat it or frame it for the Smithsonian to hang up as a work of art.

End.

Now do you understand my plight? I am just a hard working guy wanting to do his job, but I can no longer work under such detrimental conditions. Until my demands are met I refuse to punch the clock and perform my duties.

I ask that all others in my situation or even those who simply sympathize, join me in this strike and immediately contact your local state representatives to demand that stricter rules and regulations are in place to protect our special interest.