The Night That Time Forgot

I’ve never seen the old movie, The Land That Time Forgot, but I’m familiar with the premise: it’s a story about explorers who discover a place dinosaurs have escaped extinction. The movie used primitive stop-motion dinosaur action (based on the clips I’ve seen), but the moral comes thru loud and clear: humans and these beasts weren’t meant to mix. When it happens it’s disastrous for all involved. That, I think, makes it a fitting analogy for what happened last Monday night.

Monday night started out innocently enough: Paul, Curtis, Matty and I met at Madison Pub for an after-work drink. Adam appeared after a bit, and then Mike Meola (Mike insists that he didn’t have sex with that boy, Ben), and finally Woodsy arrived. Then Ryan G. (better known as Tuesday Night, named for the night we met him) appeared with his boyfriend and a group of cute young friends.

Maybe I’m working the analogy with the movie a little too hard, but I consider Tuesday Night and his posse to be the explorers who let loose the beasts. Until they arrived it was a typical night: a bit of ribbing for Paul and Curtis about their relationship, some good-natured kidding with Mike about Ben (remember, Mike says he did not have sex with that boy, Ben). We were tipsy but not drunk, having fun but heading home to boyfriends and dinner and maybe a little TV. Who’d think the monsters would come out?

When you meet new, cut young guys the first thing you do is introductions. We introduced ourselves, asked the boys about their jobs, and mentioned boyfriends in passing to put them at ease. Then Matty said, “I think we need shots!” Always the faithful lieutenant, I did a quick headcount, ran up to the bar, and returned with 11 shots for the crew. I asked the bartender for something medium-strong but palatable, and boy did he come thru. Those shots went down like Kool-Aid and hit like Jaeger. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? We had another round, and just because it’s not done until it’s over-done, a third round.

This is where things get fuzzy. By the third round we’d had some attrition. Paul had disappeared, and Mike (who insists he didn’t have sex with that boy, Ben) was playing darts. And to be frank, I had stopped noticing anyone else but the new guys, Matty, and Curtis. Inexplicably, when I returned with our 3rd round of shots, Curtis’s oxford shirt had been ripped mostly open, and his undershirt had been ripped in half. He was looking a bit dazed and annoyed. Of course, all of this could only mean one thing: Curtis wanted to be pants-ed!

Always one to oblige a friend, I passed around the shots, and immediately started removing Curtis’s pants. To make a long story short, Curtis had had enough. He whacked me upside the head, grabbed his coat, and left. Needless to say, it didn’t hurt much because I was waaaaay past feeling any pain. At this point, Matty suggested to everyone that it would be fun to go sit in the hot tub. Although I had no intention of joining them in the tub (Carlos would explode, and not in a good way), I’ve never been one to keep cute, young guys from relaxing in a hot tub. We all proceeded to Matty’s house where everyone got naked and soaked for awhile before going home. Well, except Mike (who didn’t have sex with that boy, Ben). Mike is a good boy and would never climb naked into a hot tub with a bunch of naked guys. He borrowed someone’s underwear.