I have a story from my life. An odd story to be sure.
When I was in college, I was an old fogy student (read: 28 yrs old). I lived with many other old fogy students in housing reserved for the geriatrics that we were. We tried desperately to overcome our oldness and do the hip things of our younger counterparts: we traversed the bars and consumed far too many drinks.
One of my girlfriends was dating some biker guy as a welcomed relief from her soon-to-be ex-husband, the tattooed trucker guy. She dragged me to a biker bar so she could be with her new sweetie, known in his circles as "Animal". Now mind you, I was the straight-laced engineering student. I was more comfortable in a laboratory with a calculator and test tube. I knew nothing about Harleys, and HOGs were something they made into bacon.
Yet, I wanted to be a good friend and accompany her to see the man of her dreams at the local biker bar, The Bucket O' Blood. As I'm sure you can imagine, this local establishment was probably not going to serve tea and crumpets or perform symphonic chamber music. I knew this going in. I thought I was prepared for anything.
The residents of the bar were swathed in all manner of denim, spiked rhinestones, and black leather. My friend propelled me to a back table assembled with every stereotypical biker type from any movie or song you've ever heard.
Steppenwolf romanced us from the jukebox upon our arrival………Born to be wiiiiiiiiiiild………………..I like smokin' lightnin', heavy metal thunder………..
She introduced me to the ladies in the group. They were a motley crew of scary women who could probably tear me limb from limb without even popping a seam on their leather bustiers. I was seriously scared. Yet, I sat down and tried to display my coolest, cool chick facial expression. Somebody lit a joint and passed it around to the group. I had never seen someone dare to smoke marijuana in an actual bar before. Yes, they were truly rogues. Yeah, so I took a hit. I wasn't exactly a pot virgin, just a biker bar virgin, ok?
It wasn't too long before my friend was swapping spit with her biker boy, Animal in some darkened corner. I was truly alone in the black leather world and sporting a bit of a buzz. I tried to blend in with the scary biker chicks. They were beautiful, but so incredibly scary. I thought I was really making it work. I was fitting in. We were laughing. All was good.
Then, suddenly, I was shocked by an entire pitcher of ice water over the top of my head! It was one of the biker chicks doing it. Everyone laughed at my startled screams. Yeah, you are probably laughing too. Ok, whatever, I will be cool and laugh too, I thought, even though my tits were numb with cold. I wanted to kick her ass, but knew I would die before I got in the first punch. It was best to be jovial in the midst of my utter misery. Before I could catch my breath, here comes another pitcher of cold ice water over my head!
Unbeknownst to me, I was being evaluated by all the biker boys in the bar. It was a wet t-shirt contest. I am happy to say, I FUCKING WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I do have nice tits, I must say so myself, they are huge and very orb-like.
So, it just goes to show, just because you are an engineering nerd in an academic world, it doesn't mean you can't charm a roomful of biker boys with a nice set of ta-tas!
