Some Enchanted-ish Evening
I had a strange night. First I swung by my parent's house to run mad circles around the neighbor's yard with the dog. Now that she's finally trained to not keep running like a gypsy, she's a complete joy to take outdoors unleashed. Man does that dog like to run. It's like it suddenly clicked with her, the trade-off for not running blocks away if she happened to become unleashed. She doesn't have to put up with the constriction of a leashed collar or harness, gets to run around like a hyena on crack, and gets a treat for running back home after staying within the confines of the two connected yards. I'm very proud of her, and I love to see her free as a jaybird.
After that visit I headed downstate a few miles to check out a new drinking establishment that a friend of mine just opened with his buddy. Here is where it starts to get weird. I jumped on the interstate, and even though my mood was just fine, save for having a few female cramps - at some point on the highway I started to feel really...dizzy. I was cruising along at around 70mph, and started feeling almost disconnected from the road. There was a lot of traffic, and it was dark. Bear in my mind, my actual mood was normal - but when this started happening, it was like this piercing pressure drop, adrenalin or something shot straight from my head to my gut and back again.
When the disconnected feeling started to subside mildly as I kept driving, trying to stay as focused as possible, I was socked with another feeling - sadness? - and then I began to realize that I had just had a panic attack. The reason it freaked me as much as it did is that it came completely out of the blue. I felt fine, and then I didn't feel fine. I was desperate to find where it was I was trying to get to (I was unsure of exactly how to get there) and to just sit the fuck down and come back to earth.
Thankfully, it didn't take long. My friend wasn't there when I arrived, but his buddy was, and I asked for a glass of water. That helped. I got a couple of phone calls and had a beer. That helped even more. The bar itself was fabulous, these guys did an awesome job setting it up, very metro but comfy, and surprisingly large. Also very easy to get to with good parking. That was a definite bonus for me, at least on this evening. I wasn't prepared to stay long, so I never ended up seeing my friend, still it was well worth checking out, and I felt satisfied that at least I will know exactly where I'm going next time.
I realized on the way back home that I really wanted another Corona. I decided that tonight was the night to check out the bar down the street, the one run by the K of C. That stands for Knights of Columbus, in case you weren't sure. And if you're still not sure what their deal is, google it, 'cause I'm not really sure myself. They have something to do with the Vatican, they have swords and costumes, no they are not Opus Dei or Priory of Scion or some shit, however they are somewhat secretive.
The main thing you need to know about them is that they have cheap, cheap drinks. We're talkin' dollar pilsners and Coronas for $2.50. Cheap. They also serve pickled eggs. I've never eaten one of those before tonight. Not recommended highly, however not outright condemned. They have a pool table. I also learned from a patron that they have killer seafood on Fridays. No sign-in and no dues, unlike another bar of similar heritage that shall remain unnamed.
It wasn't busy, and this older dude (he told me he was 55) came and sat next to me at the bar. He talked a lot lot lot lot and drank a lot lot lot lot. Ex-girlfriends, titty bars, motorcycles, motorcycles, surfing on the nude beach at 16 and teaching a bunch of (nude) teenaged girls to surf, having sex with them (not at the same time), seeing some of them even now on occasion (but not having sex with them), um let's see, motorcycles, beer, motorcycles, bonfires, motorcycles, ex-wife, daughter, his Cadillac, his truck, did I want to go for a ride on his bike, did I want to go to the topless beach next summer, motorcycles, vicious animals, um, beer. Motorcycles. He actually came across as a gentleman. Seriously. No, I'm not going to the topless beach with him. My sister showed up after I had been there for about an hour, and seemed to enjoy being scandalized by the topics of conversation that were in the air as she sipped her mixed drink.
The evening wasn't freaky-weird, just weird. The only troubling aspect was the highway panic attack. The fear was like that from a dream - breath-stealing and balance-fucking. The highway drive home was perfectly normal. Mr. Nude Beach dude was perfectly normal. The pickled egg was perfectly normal, for a pickled egg. The purring cat, my drowsy eyes, this sloppy post - perfectly normal.
After that visit I headed downstate a few miles to check out a new drinking establishment that a friend of mine just opened with his buddy. Here is where it starts to get weird. I jumped on the interstate, and even though my mood was just fine, save for having a few female cramps - at some point on the highway I started to feel really...dizzy. I was cruising along at around 70mph, and started feeling almost disconnected from the road. There was a lot of traffic, and it was dark. Bear in my mind, my actual mood was normal - but when this started happening, it was like this piercing pressure drop, adrenalin or something shot straight from my head to my gut and back again.
When the disconnected feeling started to subside mildly as I kept driving, trying to stay as focused as possible, I was socked with another feeling - sadness? - and then I began to realize that I had just had a panic attack. The reason it freaked me as much as it did is that it came completely out of the blue. I felt fine, and then I didn't feel fine. I was desperate to find where it was I was trying to get to (I was unsure of exactly how to get there) and to just sit the fuck down and come back to earth.
Thankfully, it didn't take long. My friend wasn't there when I arrived, but his buddy was, and I asked for a glass of water. That helped. I got a couple of phone calls and had a beer. That helped even more. The bar itself was fabulous, these guys did an awesome job setting it up, very metro but comfy, and surprisingly large. Also very easy to get to with good parking. That was a definite bonus for me, at least on this evening. I wasn't prepared to stay long, so I never ended up seeing my friend, still it was well worth checking out, and I felt satisfied that at least I will know exactly where I'm going next time.
I realized on the way back home that I really wanted another Corona. I decided that tonight was the night to check out the bar down the street, the one run by the K of C. That stands for Knights of Columbus, in case you weren't sure. And if you're still not sure what their deal is, google it, 'cause I'm not really sure myself. They have something to do with the Vatican, they have swords and costumes, no they are not Opus Dei or Priory of Scion or some shit, however they are somewhat secretive.
The main thing you need to know about them is that they have cheap, cheap drinks. We're talkin' dollar pilsners and Coronas for $2.50. Cheap. They also serve pickled eggs. I've never eaten one of those before tonight. Not recommended highly, however not outright condemned. They have a pool table. I also learned from a patron that they have killer seafood on Fridays. No sign-in and no dues, unlike another bar of similar heritage that shall remain unnamed.
It wasn't busy, and this older dude (he told me he was 55) came and sat next to me at the bar. He talked a lot lot lot lot and drank a lot lot lot lot. Ex-girlfriends, titty bars, motorcycles, motorcycles, surfing on the nude beach at 16 and teaching a bunch of (nude) teenaged girls to surf, having sex with them (not at the same time), seeing some of them even now on occasion (but not having sex with them), um let's see, motorcycles, beer, motorcycles, bonfires, motorcycles, ex-wife, daughter, his Cadillac, his truck, did I want to go for a ride on his bike, did I want to go to the topless beach next summer, motorcycles, vicious animals, um, beer. Motorcycles. He actually came across as a gentleman. Seriously. No, I'm not going to the topless beach with him. My sister showed up after I had been there for about an hour, and seemed to enjoy being scandalized by the topics of conversation that were in the air as she sipped her mixed drink.
The evening wasn't freaky-weird, just weird. The only troubling aspect was the highway panic attack. The fear was like that from a dream - breath-stealing and balance-fucking. The highway drive home was perfectly normal. Mr. Nude Beach dude was perfectly normal. The pickled egg was perfectly normal, for a pickled egg. The purring cat, my drowsy eyes, this sloppy post - perfectly normal.
posted by Black Egg at 10:44 PM
3 Comments:
I have had the same sort of panic attack you described. In fact, it mostly happens in the same way, when I'm driving on the interstate late at night, out of the blue and I usually only notice I had it afterward. WEIRD! Maybe it's some sort of mis-wiring in both our heads? Some effect of high speeds on the brain? A mass-collective reaction to bright white lines in our peripheral vision? Either way, it's strange.
The K of C! Never went to the one in my hometown, but I hear all sorts of silly things about those guys. The pickled egg sounds...ew. The motorcycle dude sounds like fun! (the kinda fun you leave sitting at the bar...but still fun :) )
SOUNDS LIKE FUN ANYWAY!!! great post!
n.f. - I've never had a panic attack before where I wasn't actually already upset by something, so this was sooo weird and unexpected, I hated it! It was like I was hypnotized or something! As for the K of C, I recommend it highly, but I can only speak for the one 'round here. They opened up to the public a year or two back, so there's no smoking now inside, which is preferable. I don't mind a smoke now and then, I just don't want to smell like one!
i.v. - I had a great time, all things considered!
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