Bunny Hop
Fairmount
3/20/08
Disgruntled with "Hip Philadelphia", I've begun to seek alternatives. When a mixture of old and new friends invited me along for The Bunny Hop, not going to lie, I was gung-ho.
9:00 P.M. I waited around for a friend to come in from out of town, so we were to meet up with the larger group. Walking over to the London, I began to have serious doubts as to what I was getting myself into. Before I go any further, for those of you not in know, the idea is: cough up ten bucks for a good cause (Leukemia), having done a "good thing", you can now act like the asshole you truly are. Ten bucks, complete exoneration. The proof that you're a good person, a set of bunny ears (Easter, baby, get it?), that if you're an ultra-confident party animal (ha) you wear all night long. Oh and then you're entitled to unlimited $3 Stellas. One sweet deal. Ok, so we turned the corner onto 24th street where some dude wearing pink bunny ears was vomiting so hard that I'd swear he vomited his soul. Farther down the block we crossed paths with two 30-something sorority girls, who interrogated us as to our lack of ears, "Where in the fuck are your ears?" "Why the fuck don't you have any ears?" "You wouldn't like it very much if you had Leukemia." What you also need to understand, that I should've pieced together more quickly, is that because of the long weekend, the vast majority of bunnies left work and headed straight to the bars, and were pretty much in the center by this time, 9:00 P.M.
9:15. We spent 10 minutes outside of the London trying to herd some of our party that had wandered off. We found out they were in Rembrandt's and we headed over there. My friend Andy and I still didn't have bunny ears. Thankfully, the only clean shirt that I had was my disco shirt, which let me just tell you the color scheme: cream, sky blue, pink, and silver, metallic silver. Well, that's bullshit, I just wanted to blow everybody away with the shirt. I left the top two buttons undone so as to display my chest hair which I'm becoming increasingly proud of. Anyway, when we got to the table where you donate the 10 dollars, I informed the young lady tending it that I wasn't going to make a donation. She took one look at my disco shirt and decided it best not to hassle me. We made our way upstairs and I instantly was pained by the memory of $5 beers. Btw, do you know that when you buy a case of Lager in New Jersey, the price per bottle comes to 66.6 cents? Wrap your head around that the next time you think you're getting a deal paying three dollars a bottle at The Barbary. You should by now be able to predict the moral of the story: the best place to get drunk and enjoy the company of friends is in someone's house/apartment, not a Fairmount bar.
10:45. After only an hour and half of receiving disapproving looks for my shirt and lack of bunny ears, after observing a couple alternating between making out and fighting, after not being able to talk with all of my friends because the bar was too packed, no place to sit or stand, after having two girls expect me to let them in the bathroom ahead of me after I waited 10 minutes in line because two girls going to the bathroom together is apparently hot, or something, after hearing one dude tell another dude about how he was fucking some girl doggy style when his roommate walks in and he tells his roommate to whip his dick out, that this girl's a freak, and how she starts to suck his (the roommate's) dick and then bang both of them, I had had enough, and called it a night. The Bunny Hop Woo-Hoo! Yeah! I was the guy on the mat.
