It was Thursday (technically 2AM Friday morning) before Blizzcon. My friends and I narrowly escaped the pre-party hosted by Ask Mr. Robot. We were roughly 23 beers deep and pizza had become a dire necessity. “It’s not breathtaking but, there’s a pizzeria near,” one of my companions suggested. “Fuck it!” I insisted. “It’s pizza and they’re open!” Perhaps, in retrospect, a cab would have been a better choice than hoofing it since we were all losing our bout with lucidity. Nevertheless, our impetuous journey began.
It resembled the quests from Vanilla Arathi Highlands that sent you across the map through droves of raptors and spiders five levels too high who came from 53 yards away to kick the shit out of you. It was exactly like that! The raptor that nearly sent me to the graveyard was my own bladder. We had barely stumbled 300 yards from the Hilton door when my internal navigation plotted a new, emergency course. “Bro, I gotta go!” I urged. “I’m from Mississippi” Knutt slurred, “you know what I’m going to tell you!” Just then, I had to drastically alter my trajectory. A very nice, young fella was washing a truck directly in my path – with a fucking hose pumping enough water to put out a forest fire! I could feel my bladder throbbing.. “Sorry sir.” I said to the saint. “Si!” He replied.
Now, I don’t speak much Spanish, but even I could recognize the kindness in this young man’s voice. “Hey ummm, look – I am going to die if I don’t find a restroom in about 17 seconds.” “Si?” He looked at me with an inquisitive gaze. I oozed desperation and pantomimed at the young man for 14 agonizing seconds. Finally, transcendence! The essence of Jesus himself glistened in the young man’s eyes and he gestured to the other side of the truck – “Si, si!” The relief I found on the other side of that truck was short lived. My battered and abused intestines immediately resurrected my fervor for pizza.
Finally, the Arathi Highlands quest was complete – DING – and we arrived at the pizzeria. I was too intoxicated to coherently order anything and frankly, it was better for everyone that I just sat and waited on the pizza to come to me. It was at that very moment, as if I had spidey sense or perhaps, slut sonar that my gaze snapped left and was met with the gaze of a lonely redhead in a dress that would have made her daddy proud. “She looks like she needs a little Pettet in her life!” I said. “I dare you!” Knutt replied. As I was headed for the door I heard my wife say “it’s like he’s a dog in heat who’s only attracted to other dogs with red hair.” That little tid-bit had me giggling all the way out the door.
“Hey there!” I greeted the (allegedly) ugly redhead. Her response could have been more flattering. She simply scooted roughly eight inches in the other direction. “You don’t look nerdy enough to be here for Blizzcon?” (pro, right?) Again, her response left a lot to be desired – she just rolled her eyes and looked away. “This is going well, I think.” I said. She was apparently nice enough to refrain from telling me to go fuck myself.
Without warning, five unhappy looking dudes surrounded me. The antagonist of this little narrative, a fella we’re gonna call Ant, was standing directly in front of the virtuous gypsy and me, there was a guy on both sides of him, another sat to the her right and the last of them sat to my left. “Is this dude bothering you babe?” Ant inquired. They began to exchange some formalities that were clearly designed to justify this dude’s impending attempt to kick my ass. But, I’m on level 23 with a freshly activated pizza bonus. I began to visualize the scenario in my groggy mind – when he swings I’ll pick him up as if going for a tackle and slam him head first wrestling style, then immediately punch the bootlickers next to him in the sweet spot on the chin taking them out of the mix. I didn’t get much further than that when I hear Ant say; “where the fuck did you come from?” He probably felt Knutt’s beard hairs tickling the back of his neck. It was also at this time that I realized the dude to my left was the nay-saying companion who recommended this pizza joint.
I turned to the promiscuous ginger, “So, is this your boyfriend? He seems like a dick,” “He’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. “Okay, so is he paying for tonight?” I speculated. The rabble erupted. “Ohhhh-hhhho-hooooo, bro… what the fuck?” and then Ant leans in to give his girl a kiss and (I swear to God!) says “Baby, he doesn’t know what you’re worth!” Counter eruption ensued from my entourage. “Bro, you just called your girl a prostitute!” At this point, the groups had divided. Words were being exchanged. Insults were being flung freely. Fingers being shoved in faces and blows were almost certainly imminent.
Unexpected things happen when you’re on level 23 and appear to be bat-shit crazy. One of the bootlickers managed to rationalize with Ant and convinced him to snatch up his seductress and retreat. With the numbers now in our favor at two versus three, Knutt turns around and says “Pettet, go finish your pizza dude. I’ll handle this.” I was willing to listen to such sound reason and this situation was clearly fizzling out. Before I could even get to the door I heard the words “You said I was a bad dude!” I turned around as the shaken bootlicker said to Knutt; “No man, I didn’t say YOU were a bad dude!”
Just then, party-crashing companion-X, we’ll call him Saint Andrew, came hauling-ass around the corner. “Where are the cops?!” He gasped. Just as abruptly as Ninja Knutt had appeared behind Ant, the bootlickers casted vanish. Saint Andrew convinced everyone that it was probably best if we leave as well. So we headed back on foot speculating about how close we came to getting stabbed and laughing about how moronic we get. Soon after arriving at our hotel I came to the petrifying realization that we had no pizza in-tow – a harrowing finale to an otherwise delightful evening.
Moral of the story: Always get a to-go box!