So the other day I was texting with Douglas about the weather or whatever, when suddenly he was all, “Oh, hey, I was shopping at Black Hawk earlier, and the guy behind the counter said that Angelo said you’re joining the Misfits.”
Jesus. And I thought Pagans could gossip.
Anyway, as of this week, I am officially the newest Misfits pledge. I am not really sure what this will entail, other than guarding the club’s mascot (a stuffed toy Taz covered in run pins), but I figure I can handle anything they throw at me. That’s one of the fringe benefits of life as a recovering alcoholic: Not to one-up anybody, but regardless of what goes down during the pledging process — if there’s any light hazing or good-natured public embarassment involved — I guarantee that I’ve drunkenly embarassed myself in spectacularly worse ways.
Them: “Hey, pledge! You have to wear the Hat of Shame* tonight! Ha!”
Me: “Have I ever told you about the time I got into a lip-synch battle with a drag queen during a LUEY after-party? It started with the Whitney Houston version of ‘I’m Every Woman’ and ended with us grinding to ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears.”
Me: “Her name was Vanessa. She was very nice. I’ve got the whole thing on video if you’d like to see it.”
Me: “So tell me about this hat again?”
Speaking of drunkeness, the next Misfit event is this Saturday, when we’ll be bartending at the local leather pub. After last night’s monthly business meeting, a few of the guys sat me down to go over The Rules:
1. I am to show up no later than 10 pm.
2. If at any point in the evening I feel even slightly triggered, I am to let one of the other Misfits know and then leave immediately, no explanation necessary. This is not a suggestion.
3. I am to keep Taz away from the Bayou City Pups at all costs.
To be honest, the second Rule caught me off-guard. I mean, they know I’m sober and are not weirded out by that, which is great, but I didn’t expect the level of support and understanding they were offering. And this must have read aross my face, because one of the guys was all, “Dude, you’re with the Misfits now. We take care of each other, and we will not let anything happen to you.”
Which totally made me feel like I was in The Warriors (“All right now, for all you boppers out there in the big city, all you street people with an ear for the action, I’ve been asked to relay a request…”). And I can totally live with that.
The Misfits call each other brothers, which I always taken metaphorically. Turns out, they mean it literally. I am not, as I’ve been assuming, simply joining a social club: I am gaining brothers. And I can totally live with that, too.
*I do not know if there’s an actual Hat of Shame, but if there is, I’ll bet I look fabulous in it.