As some of you know, every Thursday I play in a Kickball League. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with tales of kickball, but rather the drinking and hanging out we do afterwards. After the games, most of the teams head downtown to a particular bar for drink and food specials as long as we're wearing our team shirts. I usually don't opt for the US$1.00 Coors Light drafts that come in a Dixie cup, because it's really not any cheaper than buying a 23 oz draft. I usually just drink Whiskey, although last night I did drink the beer, in celebration of our first win.
Anyway, I absolutely love the bar we go to. The second time I went there the bartender knew my name because he saw my debit card the week before when I started a tab and remembered what I looked like and the name on my card. I usually tip them pretty favorably because of this.
Last night was probably the most fun my team has had after a game, because we finally won. In celebration, when I got there, I decided I would play a tune on the jukebox. The song I selected was specific, and one that I figured everybody would enjoy. I played “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley. I thought it would be great to Rick Roll the bar. As it turns out, nobody there knew what the fuck a Rick Roll was and not many people even knew who Rick Astley was, or even cared about the song.
Later in the evening a cake was brought out in celebration of somebody's birthday. People were enjoying the cake and smearing it on each others faces. You know, the kind of fun you have when you turn 8 years old, or you get married. Neither of which was happening at the bar last night. Thinking that I would make a clever reference at least one other person might enjoy, I pointed out that the “cake is a lie.” Once again I was pummeled with blank stares. Then it dawned on me. Every time I go to this bar and talk to anybody, they just stare at me like I'm from Neptune or some shit. Apparently I make no sense when I talk to them, and I might as well just be speaking a different language. I realized it happens every week. It irritated me that I had absolutely nothing in common with a single person in the entire bar, except for the fact that some of us play in the same Kickball league, so I left.
As it turns out, I actually live in a completely separate world than most people. A world where Rick Rolls and delicious cake make sense.