My roommate tends to live by the mantra, "Anything you can do, I can do better."
Whether it’s playing Scattergories, spiking a volleyball or — in the case of last Thursday night — running a bar, she lets her subtle competitive streak shine through.
It was “alternative rock” night at Bill Pickle’s Tap Room, which involved a lot of R.E.M., Nirvana, Radiohead and other non-danceable music. My roommate, who was in the mood to dance, was told to go to Players when she asked the doorman for a more upbeat song list.
She took this as a challenge.
Her target became the Pickle’s employee who was standing guard at the base of the DJ booth, a.k.a., the raised platform decked out with a computer and Ipod playlist.
The employee, who probably got the guard job because he was just a tad too small to be a bouncer, was instantly smitten by my roommate’s womanly wiles, and she triumphantly returned to our table with news that the DJ would soon be visiting to listen to, and meet, her demands.
However, her knight in shining armor never arrived. The DJ was apparently unable to play my roommate’s song requests.
I began to fear the worst. My roommate is not someone you want to make angry, and now that she’d been turned down twice, you could see the fire rising in her eyes.
I envisioned the scene playing out in my head: a 21-year-old, slightly intoxicated female, charging the DJ booth, throwing the computer off the side and probably hitting the too-skinny Pickle’s employee in the head.
It wouldn’t have been pretty.
Thankfully, before my nightmare could come true, fate stepped in. My roommate’s request, Tom Petty’s “American Girl,” began playing, kicking the “alternative rock” theme to the curb. Whether it was a coincidence, or my roommate’s charm, we may never know.
But as “American Girl” transitioned into “Love Shack,” and the formally stationary, head nodding crowd broke into a full out dance party, my roommate turned to me and said, “See how much better it would be if I owned a bar?”