Panic! at the Disco
“Somebody call 9-1-1, Shawdy's spazzing on the dancefloor. Oh-woah-oh-oh!”
The lights were giving me chills. Red, pink, green, now blue, and all the colors of the rainbow! Flash of purple, green, red, repeat. I was starting to get a migraine. It wasn't just a headache anymore. The headache had started pounding into my skull hours ago, but now I only wished for it to come back. I'd been twenty-one years old as of a few weeks ago, so I had to at least try something. Should I have? Why did I? I can't take it, I have epilepsy! The doctor had always warned me to stay out of strobe lights. Why did I consider that this was a good idea? It was everything but a good idea!
I'd never been to a disco before in my life, let alone a party. Maybe the Jesus of the Discos could help me? I prayed and prayed that something would ease my hallucinations and pains, I mean I was surging with an energetic feeling that I'm not really a big fan of. It was like that one Kyle XY episode where he ended up puking on the floor at a party after sneaking out to catch Lori. In fact, I really did end up puking on the floor. That's not where it started, however. No, it isn't even enough to summarize this tragic incident. There is a lot more to be told, my friends. This is my experience with the dreaded sensation of panic and a local disco. My friends, let me tell you about my panic at the disco.
So, you really do want to hear about my panic at the disco? Okay, but please don't laugh at my self-humiliation. Got it? Good.
It was about a week ago from today. I wasn't expecting company on a rare, calm Sunday night, so I was still in my pajamas, watching a movie. Next thing you know, I heard someone knocking on my door. Company..., I thought with a frustrated will. I got up, slipped on my pink bunny slippers and made my way to the door. After pausing my movie, of course.
I moved the small curtain from the door's window to see who was knocking on my door. It was my crazy friend Johnny. Johnny Peckir. My alcoholic, party person, soon-to-be-former friend, Johnny Peckir. What does he want on a Sunday night? At ten o' clock? Seriously? The short but fateful conversation we had went, if I remember correctly, something like this:
"Hey man! Happy Sunday! Haha, what's up? Sorry if I'm intruding or bugging you, as I see you are in your jammies. Your... Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle... jammies..." he said.
"No, man. It's fine. I was just watching Bridesmai— *cough**cough*. Um... brides, brides... what am I watching? Oh, yeah! Corpse Bride. Yes, that is what I am currently at the moment watching. Corpse Bride", I blurted, quickly saving my skin. He gave me one of those weird faces, so I guessed that he wasn't a fan of Tim Burton films.
Finally, growing impatient, I shot, "what do you want, Johnny?" He shrugged and turned a steady glare onto my eyes.
"Remember when we were talking about parties?"
Really?, I thought, Yes, Johnny. After all these many moments we could have had a conversation about parties, I remember which one you were talking about. No, I'm a human being! "Um... no?" I replied gently.
Johnny became eager to make me remember. "Last week, man! Down by the barbershop? Yesterday was the grand opening of the new—" I knew now. The new disco in town.
"Wait, the new disco?" "Yeah, yes! Exactly! Come on man, we've been best friends since like forever. Since our childhood, dude!"
No, that's not how it has always been, if you think about it. "Actually, I've been your bitch forever, Johnny. You know how this goes!" He asked me what I meant by that.
"We go somewhere, you get laid, and I end up being made into sport by everyone. Even gay guys. And honestly, I'm tired of it."
"Come on, one time. Don't you remember band camp, dude?", he pressed.
Band camp? Dammit! I thought he forgot about band camp. And what a terribly awkward memory! Ugh! "You promised you would never speak of that again, Johnny!"
Johnny turned for a second before looking back at me with a grin. "Okay, then! I guess everyone wants to hear what you did at band camp, behind the vending machines!" He laughed viciously.
There was no way I could tell for sure if he was bluffing or not, but I was seriously panicking, so I wouldn't take that risk. I finally succumbed to the pressure.
"Fine, I'll go!" I cried. Johnny pounded my shoulder happily with a huge smile. He repeatedly told me "love you, bro!" and thanked me. In return I gave him a "whatever" and slammed the door shut. Goodnight, Johnny. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
Day before and day of
Johnny has been my only friend since like fourth grade, so I guess I shouldn't have been a jerk about it. However, I should have talked to him before hand because I have never even been invited to birthday parties or any of that kind of thing my entire life. My dad was sent to jail during my childhood (still has a long way to go) and my mother is a bit of a wild lady. So they don't help the cause. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, what clothes to wear, what to bring, and so on. And Johnny doesn't really turn his cellphone on much, so I can't connect with him easily if I needed to. Actually, now that I think of it, he does have his phone on. He just doesn't want to hear me nag at him. Therefore he has his phone setup to automatically ignore my calls. I don't usually care about these types of things. But I actually needed him this time. It was quite ironic.
I was unsure of what I should have done, but then I remembered some stuff I've seen while watching That '70s Show. Those guys know fashion! So I threw on my father's 70s wear, sprayed a tad of cologne, and looked up some pick up lines on the Internet before I took off everything to get some rest. Rehearsing stuff isn't that bad, as it turns out.
The next day was fine. Or appeared to almost be at first. The morning consisted of the usual morning routine, so I won't waste your time with those details. Actually, I considered myself pretty lucky that morning. I mean, I did win a free toy with my cereal. It was pretty cool.
I was supposed to arrive at the disco at seven. Seems simple enough, right? Wrong. When I got out of the shower I realized I had ran out of toothpaste and fluoride. In fact, it just so happened that I ran out of everything that could make my mouth smell fresh. That's not all, though; I accidentally got the hip clothes I was going to wear stained when I was eating supper. It already stained into it. What was I going to do? Stain removal? Wrong again. It seems I ran out of stain removal and I had no time whatsoever to run the laundry. It was twenty minutes until seven. That's right, only twenty minutes. No way whatsoever I could run the laundry and get there on time. However, I did have a plan B.
My shirt was orange and black. So if I grabbed some orange and black paint and painted over it, maybe nobody would notice? It had to work.
On the way there
On the way there, that is when the real panic began. I thought to myself, what if I get laid?. Surely I would need protection. Foolish of me, so foolish. I was such a fool. Ten minutes until seven and I needed to speed down to the drug store and grab some good old Trojans. Yes, I was certain I could do it. I knew I could do it, there was nothing that could stop me. Maybe I could have been pulled over for speeding, but thankfully no cops saw me doing 75 through town.
Then I started panicking. Sweat ran down my cheeks and my hands became slippery as I held onto the wheel. The closest drug store was six minutes away and the disco was twice that amount of time! What would Johnny and his friends think of me?, I worried.
When I finally arrived at the disco, I was already drenched in sweat, and I knew I had to pull out some serious convincing skills from under my sleeves to even manage to get my soaking palms and shaky fingers off my wheel. But I new I couldn't just bail out and go back home now, I had already come too far to turn back. How did I even decide to get out of the car in the end? I can't determine how, but that doesn't matter. So I looked around in an anxious manner from my inside my car, looking through the window, and there was my pal Johnny over by the entrance, already with two girls. Good for him, male gigilo. With finality, I pulled myself out of the car, he spotted me, and seconds later I was already being dragged into the disco.
And that's when it really started. Man, I thought just the anticipation of being at a social event was bad, but now the lights started, the noise... aargh! Johnny had pulled me inside but now he was gone, probably having those nice girls swoon over him. Maybe I was overreacting... I tried to calm myself, wiped the sweat out of my face, but the people were pressing all around! Somehow I got onto the dance floor, trying to dance and hide my glazed look, my utter terror. I don't know what I even looked like, probably some demented guy gyrating erratically to songs he could barely hear over the pounding in his ears. Next I was with Johnny and some of his other friends, having a drink. I think I fell off the chair a few times, and drank a little more than I should have.
But eventually I ended up as a sad lump in a corner, my eyes shut and spilled beer soaking into my leg. Johnny might have tried getting me to come to, but ended up leaving me in a few minutes. You know what, I don't blame him. How I got out of there I still don't know, and why I wasn't brought to a hospital is beyond me. I mean, I was dangerously wasted. But I awoke in somebody's car, early in the morning. No note or anything, just somebody's empty car. Feeling cold, hungover, and sick, I opened the door, and looked around to realize I was in some street in a suburb outside of town. Shit. Time to start the long walk home (all my money was gone. So were my Trojans, but I didn't really think about that). By the time I got home, I was tired enough to just collapse near my bed, not to rise again from my sleep for at least a day. What a wonderful time Johnny treated me to. Just wonderful. And the worst part of it all, I never did ended up getting laid.