Dan Does Denver (part 1/2)
November 19th – 23rd, 2018.
[For writing purposes, the girl in this story (same girl from What What in the Butt Part 2) will be referred to as Ramona.]
Introduction:
To strongly hit home the embarrassment I’d go through, I should explain a few things. Hanging out with Ramona was a lot of fucking fun. Of course, she had some craziness of her own, as we all do, but it was nowhere close to being ‘Claire, I’m kicking you out of my room you psychotic, talk to text, non-functioning, alcoholic, walking annoyance’ crazy. (I’m just playing Claire, you know I love you.)
Ramona worked as a waitress at the strip club (pretty sure anyways that she was a waitress and didn’t strip) while she was living in San Antonio. She moved to Denver to live with her sister and pursue being a full time streamer/gamer. She recently quit her part time job to fully concentrate on streaming (I’ll keep her gamer tag anonymous, but hey, if Baby Dick Tales blow up and she ever reads this and wants to pick up some extra subscribers, I’d gladly help a lady out).
She had a few stories of her own that would make for a top notch Tale. She told me about the time that one of the customers at the club had a fantasy of having her piss on him. Fuck getting cancer and contacting Make-A-Wish, she fulfilled his Golden Shower urge in exchange for $800 putting a sick twist on the old cliché ‘pissing money away’.
(It’s people with stories like this that I’d like to have my podcast series.)
Ramona was also a dedicated San Antonio Spurs fan. Yeah, it was mostly because her Sugar Daddy when she was eighteen (maybe she was nineteen, I don’t know, but she’s twenty-two now) would take her and a few other of his ‘candies’ to sit court side at games, but nonetheless, she was still a fan and could carry on an intelligent basketball conversation.
(Her friend around the same age had a Sugar Daddy and suggested that she should do the same. I forget the site they used, but not long after creating an account, she was going to Spurs games, expensive dinners, and had a paid apartment for twelve months. What’s the saying? Hustle hard, closed mouths don’t get fed on the boulevard…something like that.)
As strange as it sounds, even though she absolutely loved to eat butt, she WOULD NOT make out (I’m not saying I wanted her to eat my ass, so that I could then make out with my ass, but I mean she wouldn’t make out at any given time). She said that it’s just ‘weird’. She was also sad that she didn’t bring her butt plugs with her because she thought that they ‘looked cute’. On top of all of this, she never once took her shirt off while staying with me. She would come up with random excuses such as ‘No! I feel bloated.’
[When she was back in Denver, I asked her if it was because she didn’t feel comfortable enough around me, and if that’d change when I fly out to visit her. She said it would change, that she thinks her boobs are ‘cute’, but that she doesn’t take her shirt off for people that she doesn’t know.
Some things I can’t explain. Besides, even if I tried, I’d have to cite at least seventeen psychology best sellers, so I’m just gonna leave it at that.]
All in all, she was extremely sexy, spontaneous, enjoyed drinking, held interesting conversations, and fun to be around. I’d book a flight to Denver for that any day.
Post What What Part 2:
For the sequential days after Ramona left Pittsburgh, if not for a good week or so, my under carriage was completely spotless. It was as if she geared up with rubber gloves, sprayed an entire bottle of Kaboom onto the kitchen counter, and scrubbed vigorously with an S.O.S. cleaning pad until she caught carpal tunnel.
For the next few weeks, we remained in good communication talking a few nights a week on the phone. We mutually agree on me coming out to Denver, partially because she ‘needs dick’. As she would put it -‘if I go a few days without dick, I just feel like I’m gonna shrivel up and die.’
Now, I haven’t worked a ‘real job’ in four years and I can’t provide much to society, and even though I’d have to have sex with a girl twelve times to give her ten inches (that’s generously rounding up), I could do my best and try and keep this girl from shriveling up and needing a feeding tube that wasn’t comprised of blood, veins, and the occasional unsnipped foreskin.
As previously stated, we settle on Thanksgiving week – November 19th – 23rd.
Leading up to my visit, we discussed possibly renting a log cabin for Thanksgiving Day, along with her sister and maybe a couple others. She even sent me a few different restaurant suggestions asking me which one she should make reservations at. Most importantly, we were also going to spend an afternoon chugging margaritas at Casa Bonita!!!! Presumably, just like lots of other people, she didn’t even realize that Casa Bonita was an actual place, and not just some make believe fantasy world for Cartman to eat unlimited fajitas at. She insisted we ‘take like a bunch of pictures’. Obliging, I immediately get excited to pose at Black Bart’s Cave. ‘Awesomeeeeee’.
Saturday prior to my Monday morning departure, I’d talk to Ramona to confirm that she’s still able to pick me up at the airport. Confirmation received.
Packing Sunday night, my toughest decision was whether or not I should try and bring my six ounce bottle of anal lube with me, attempting to successfully surpass the 3.4 ounce limit. On one hand, getting stopped at airport security for an excessive amount of anal lube wouldn’t be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me, but it did seem somewhat likely to happen.
Reluctantly, I leave the lube behind, and instead pack an abundance of condoms. I felt like my buddy when we visited Mexico for nine days – he packed nearly thirty load catchers because he expected that his southern accent would have him banging ‘at least two bitches a day’. Nearly each condom remained laid out on the kitchen counter for the entire trip before being thrown away as we cleaned up our Air B&B on the last day.
Day 1 (Monday) November 19th – The Loser Wins
After a two hour flight delay, I land in Denver around 2:30pm. Finally having service, I switch my phone off of airplane mode expecting to have (at least) a text from Ramona. I have nothing. After sending a handful of messages and outgoing calls her way, all of which go unanswered, it doesn’t take me long to spot the loser at the airport.
Strange thing is, I had a vibe leading up to this moment that this may actually happen. Now of course, if there was ever a good chance of this girl flaking on me, I expected it to be when she was coming from Denver to Pittsburgh. I never truly believed that she would come and visit until she was physically in my car with me. The same applied here – I never truly believed that I’d have a butthole licking good Thanksgiving week until I was actually having my butthole licked.
Having gotten the vibe that I could potentially end up ‘stranded’ in Denver, I had hit up a few people that I knew were still living in the area, a few weeks prior to my flight. I remember discussing my preemptive strike with one of my buddies – “Dude I’m telling ya, I still feel like she might ditch me, but Baby Dick is international and I got friends and family all over.” Which, is true. I’m lucky enough to know people in a good twenty states or so, and a handful of countries that I can comfortably ask to stay with.
Even though I did have a backup plan, I’m not going to down play or lie about the mixture of feelings I felt. It’s still very, fucking, embarrassing. I was looking forward to having an extremely fun week, and now I was left to try and make the best out of my situation as I sadly sat in silence at the bar inside of the airport.
I (again) message my friend Sarah who I had went to college with about six years ago (which is also about the last time that I seen her). I pathetically tell her my predicament. Of course she laughs, but she gives me her address and a few hours later I’m drinking at Your Mother’s House (a dive bar in Denver) with her and her friend Steph, fulfilling their curiosity on how I’ve gotten to this point.
[Might as well quickly recap that now – Tour, ‘groupie’, DM’s, Pittsburgh, ass eating, Denver, ghost.]
Chilling at Mommy’s, the three of us bond over margaritas and darts while catching up on the past five years of each other’s life.
(I’ll let everyone know now – Sarah’s a, as they’re commonly known as, bad ass bitch. As are her friends. It’ll all be explained as this week of fuckery continues, but it’s something to keep in mind as it all unravels and I was lucky that I got to hang out with them.)
Closing our tab down, we head to another bar down the street (Pub on Penn) for more drinks and tacos. While waiting on our food, Sarah makes a comment about one of her other friends being on her way and wanting to do shots. I perk up like a starving dog when it hears a rattling treat box.
Hopefully she likes doubles.
Adding to the clan of badass bitches, Kate shows up to complete the trio. I immediately begin to promote the pros of getting black out drunk. It seems as if I need to work on my marketing skills though as they mention something called ‘work’ tomorrow that they’re unexpectedly concerned about.
Tacos devoured, and drinks chugged, the four of us hop in an Uber towards a sports bar to finish watching the now epic Monday Night Rams vs Chiefs game. Sitting in the front seat, I attempt to get our foreign driver to play ‘Fuck One, Marry One, Kill One’ with each of the girls in the backseat. They’re not thrilled and he doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. Maybe I’m supposed to feel awkward, but I don’t.
We arrive at Don’s and the entire bar is flooded with Chiefs fans. I immediately head to my happy place – ordering drinks. I try and get two Jelly Donut shots (one for me and one for Kate) but I’m shot down when I’m told that they don’t have whatever the hell it is that’s used to layer the, I’m just gonna call it yumminess. (In case you’re wondering, it was Chambord, and the shots taste just like Cheesecake and I like Cheesecake.)
Although I’m in shock, I pull through in the clutch and order the old classic female faithful – tequila. Tequila is the same to (most) women as their high school sweetheart is. Even though they know that things aren’t going to work out, they still crawl back to it for that momentary sense of comfort. Not only that, but we’ve all learned from my cruise adventure how crucial afternoon shots of tequila really are.
I spend the rest of the night running up a four person bar tab consisting mostly of Jamison Mules as I try and show my gratification to an old friend for helping me out. I’m officially accepted into their circle. They say money can’t buy love, but evidently it can buy pity.
We get drunk for the rest of the night before heading back to Sarah’s where I crash on the couch.
(In a failing effort, I expressed my interest with wanting to have sex with Kate throughout the night. Unless it was the most random, made up rejection, she told me that we couldn’t have sex because she ‘knew me too well’ now.
“You basically only know my name? And probably not even my real one.”
She essentially needed to know as little as possible about any penis that she had interest in undressing. I’d say a ‘no strings attached’ type of deal, but by the sounds of it, even a dangling string would have been a deal breaker. I guess I’ll just have to wait until she’s suffering from dementia in an old person’s home for me to take another shot. Pretty sure this is the exact scenario that people are referring to when they say to ‘never forget’.)
Day 2 (Tuesday) November 20th – Backup Plans
The next morning, I grab my bag and walk to a nearby Days Inn to book a room for the next two nights. In the grand scheme of things, I’m sure Sarah wouldn’t have minded me staying, but she had two other roommates, each on their own schedules, and so I wanted to stay out of their hair for at least a few days. Plus, as will soon be explained, I was finishing up the final stages of a backup plan to my back up plan.
After settling in to my room, I leave to go and take a walk down Colfax Ave. I stop in at Burger King, order a Triple Whopper meal, and eat my sorrows away. Stopping at a liquor store on my way back, I grab a bottle of Tito’s, small bottles of Sprite and Coke, and a Stella pounder.
Intermission time. I got an important back story to explain:
Sometime during tour, I began talking to a different girl, I believe through snapchat initially. I forget exactly how we came in contact, but I know it was through a show or something somehow. Anyways, we’d talk a fair amount and we would always toss around the idea of seeing each other – she lived in or near Phoenix (which, if I may quickly add, was possibly my favorite stop).
We’d occasionally talk on the phone, and even though I would present the idea, I never actually went through with booking her a flight to Pittsburgh. Which leads me to a quick subplot of this back up plan to a backup plan as a result of a different back up plan that turned out to be better than the original plan.
Shortly before I flew Ramona to Pittsburgh, I had applied for and got accepted for a Southwest Rapid Rewards credit card. Upon the acceptance, I got gifted a bunch of flying points as a bonus for signing up. I’m not the biggest fan of flying, which is why I’m self-declared Road Trip King and prefer to drive everywhere instead, if practical. So here’s the thing, I could either use my points to fly myself to say Phoenix or Denver, or I could just use my points to instead book their flights and not have to bother with a dog sitter or a fiery instant death.
On Friday October 12th, I got black out drunk at the casino and won around $9,000 playing 5-5-10 PLO.
(Spoiler -a few weeks later, I’d get black out again and lose it all back. I’ve since suspended myself indefinitely from playing black out drunk poker, but you gotta take the highs with the lows ya know.)
When I got back to my apartment late Friday night/ early Saturday morning, I drunk texted ‘Bailey’ telling her to come to Pittsburgh. Fresh off a solid win, I felt as though I was deserving of a ‘vacation’. I was simply following my number one rule in life – Don’t cheat yourself, treat yourself (Thizz in Peace Ronald Dregan).
I call her and we discuss getting her a flight leaving Phoenix Monday October 15th, and have her departing back home on Thursday the 18th. If those dates look familiar, it’s because they’re the exact dates during which What What in the Butt Part 2 occurs.
Let’s get into it.
The reason why I haven’t yet met Bailey is because outside of finding her physically attractive, we have nothing else in common and I’m not attracted to her personality much in the slightest. Not to say that she’s a bad or boring person, but she just wasn’t intriguing to me.
One, she was super young. Not ‘yes I’ll be there to pick you up off of the school bus young’, but recently turned eighteen young (yes, I double checked ID’s, and plus I had to book her flight for her so it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to lie about your age). To me, it seemed like all she was ever concerned with is smoking weed and adding it to her social media ‘stories’. Not that I give a damn, but if you’re opening a fireworks stand, have more than just Snakes and Sparkles. Honestly, I just couldn’t imagine spending three days together, especially when she wouldn’t even be able to go out to bars with me.
Nonetheless, in a drunk blur, I book her flights for her. But not before I made sure that she was down to bang basically the entire time because as I said, I wasn’t expecting much of a personal connection. Confirmation received.
The next day, I regret my spontaneous booking. It was also right around now that Ramona and I were kicking around the same idea of having her come visit. As I already detailed, not only was Ramona incredibly sexy, she was also much more enjoyable to talk to.
That same day, I talk to Ramona and confirm her visit – October 15th – October 18th.
Admittedly, I felt like a gigantic Baby Dick telling Bailey that I canceled her trip. I partially lied too by saying that I was just really busy that week and that I booked her flight in a drunk haze.
Either way, with Bailey’s flight now canceled and Ramona’s booked, what ensued ended up being the written masterpiece officially known as What What in the Butt Part 2.
But back to Dan Does Denver. As I said, I was working on a backup plan to a backup plan as a result of a different back up plan that turned out to be better than the original plan.
Phrase Key:
Working on a backup plan – Bailey flying to Denver.
To a backup plan – Sarah being my original back up plan in case Ramona flaked.
As a result of a different back up plan – Ramona was my original back up plan to Bailey.
That turned out to be better than the original plan – Ramona > Bailey
[While on the topic, I’d like to give my opinion on the importance of back up plans. For most, the number one goal when you go out, is to engage in coitus. But that’s very often not the case, and so you have to have a backup plan. The backup plan is to have fun. Each back up plan is an alternate route in attempt to get back to the original goal.
It’s basically like a flow chart. But if a backup plan doesn’t lead you back to the goal, then you expand on the backup plan by combining it with another back up plan. If strategized correctly, each back up plan should collectively lead you to your original plan/goal.
In closing, back up plans are extremely important and should be treated as such.]
I booked Bailey’s flight arriving in Denver late Tuesday night. Originally, she was scheduled to fly back home on Thanksgiving Day. This was another mistake I made and although I was able to rectify it, it did turn out to be costly in the form of a few hundred dollars and lots of carefully timed bomb dropping.
The night before Thanksgiving is one of the most popular drinking days of the year. I’d be damned if Belichick tries benching me just moments before the biggest game of my life. Obviously though, with Bailey being under twenty-one, this created a problem.
I call customer support to change her flight to leaving Wednesday afternoon. This tiny hiccup ended up costing quite a bit, but I didn’t want to miss a fun night out with Sarah and her friends. I pay the fee and shamelessly add it to the lengthy list I’ve comprised of the dumbest things that I’ve ever spent money on. It probably lands somewhere in between my five hundred dollar necromancer robes and the thirty or so Down 2 Girth shirts I had made to try and promote our make believe boy band (if you’re interested, I still have a handful left and will give you a bundle deal with a BDT shirt).
Bailey was supposed to arrive at my hotel around midnight. Problem is, she was dropped off by her Uber at the wrong location and her phone was now dead (the address she was supposed to come to was West Colfax Street or some shit, but the driver had it in as East Colfax Street or some shit). Before her phone died, she told me that she was near a Burger King.
Next problem is, there’s more than one Burger King on Colfax and they’re in opposite directions.
I walk down to the lobby and tell the receptionist that if a girl named Bailey shows up, that I went to walk to Burger King to try and find her, and to just wait at the hotel, or call me somehow, that I’ll be back shortly.
I should also add (I’m not foreshadowing or anything) that the receptionist was a good looking older (as in young to mid-forties or so) lady. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – every cougar wants a Wolf.
I veer off course to lay some charm and she asks me what I’m doing in Denver. I give her a quick forty-five second rendition about myself, Ramona, and Bailey. She kindly offers me some motherly advice – mostly insisting that this happened because she suspects that Ramona must have gotten a boyfriend since visiting Pittsburgh.
What a nice lady.
Moments later, Bailey shows up. Luckily, she was able to hop in a cab to catch a ride. The Uber had dropped her off about three miles away.
Even though my night continued, I’ll end yours here.
Coming up on Dan Does Denver (Part 2)!!!!!
‘…I right-click follow Jill to the backseat, avoiding all clutter as if I was receiving my Level 99 Agility Cape.
She reaches down in between the seats and starts covering the windows with cut out pieces of cardboard. No joke. These were some custom made, preciously cut, sunlight blocking, privacy visors. She had larger pieces for the back windows, and smaller ones for the sides. I assumed she had them for when she wants to sleep in her car during break at work, but unless she has another job, she works midnight shifts at the hotel. Perhaps she likes it super dark, perhaps she often gets random dick from customers. Nonetheless, being placed in a do-it-yourself makeshift backseat bedroom obviously isn’t a deal breaker for me…’