A Trip to Rum Bar

Alison and I met a friend for drinks last night, at Rum Bar, which offers half-priced mojitos on Monday nights (score!) And, then this happens:

Man so drunk he can't focus his eyes: Hi ladies.

All: Um, hi.

Man: (Starts talking to me as Alison & Isabel go back to conversation) Where are you from?

Me: Philly

Man: Where do you live?

Me: In the neighborhood. Where do you live?

Man: 13th and Spruce, in the gayborhood. But I'm not gay. I'm a straight man. Do you think people think I'm gay, because of where I live?

Me: No, I don't think so.

Man: Are you engaged?

Me: Yes. To a woman.

Man: Oh, did I insult you talking about the gayborhood? I didn't say the F-word, did I? I don't use that word.

Me: No, you didn't. It's fine.

Man: There was a gay guy in my frat in college. I used to be like, "Hey, Zim!" 'Cause his name was Zimmerman.

[Long period of being trapped by man and his friend, who describe to me where Penn State is, why they hate the Steelers, and how they began drinking at 9am because they won a lot of money off the superbowl. Alison and our friend, meanwhile, get the bill.]

Man: So, do you think I could get your number?

Me: Um, do you remember that I told you I was gay?

Man: You are? Really? With who?

Me: Her (pointing to Alison).

Man: Ohhhhhh. Well, do you have any straight friends?

Alison: No, we don't have any straight friends.
[We start to leave]

Man: (Shouting across the bar) Good luck with your boring gay life!

No one should drink all day, because this is what happens.