…and good lord it is not pretty.

I met up with some friends last night to watch the Michigan State-Notre Dame game at a bar named Gator Jakes. We had a good time, the game was piping through the speakers, all was well. Until halftime.

At that point they decided to kill the game audio and let the worst DJ I’ve ever heard control the sound for the rest of the evening. Well, I presume so. We left shortly thereafter. And we left because of the shitty music. And we had no problem telling them so. Because I figure if we pay $95 through halftime, you may want to consider the lost business.

Anyway, because of that, we wind up at a place called Rosie O’Grady’s to watch the end of the Michigan State-Notre Dame game.

(Minor digression: SPARTY THE FUCK ON!!!)

We knew the place was pretty packed when we tried to find a parking spot and basically had to create our own. But we walked in and didn’t have to pay a cover charge, which was somewhat unusual for this place, so I’m happy. We get our drink and decide we’re going to find a place to sit down. And in that search we apparently hit a time vortex.

As we’re walking through the bar, my buddy notices that we’re the youngest people in there. By a lot. The women were beyond cougars. The men were rocking ’70s porn staches. It was terrifying for a single man in his 30s with no girlfriend. Because dear God it’s entirely possible that I’m going to wind up there in 10 years.

Turns out it was an organized meetup from one of the free dating sites I’m a part of. In the ultimate case of “you live, you learn”, I will not be attending any of those meetups in the future.

Y’know, until I’m in my 50s, single and rocking a porn stache.