Lowlights of Flora-Bama. I fucking hated this place. Pina Colada for $7? Where's the alcohol? Bushwhacker? Too sweet and too much like a dessert. Went right in the trash.
Besides it being absolutely filthy and odorous, it was a cesspool of the trashiest white people I've ever seen in my life. The Wonderful Whites of West Virginia would have fit in nicely with the clientele, and I being a sophisticated motherfucker definitely did not mingle well.
Ever seen a 5'10 400 pound woman take her top off and pour beer over her misshaped, tubular breasts? I have. Bouncers no where to be found to take her out. This woman and her 5'2 100 pound boyfriend were all over each other simulating some Kama Sutra poses while the band played frat party hits like Sweet Caroline and Brown Eyed Girl. They attacked each other with their mouths and even engaged in a Jedi duel using their tongues as light sabers. Their family and friends stood around them hoo-hahing the entire event.
Moving from there, my wife and her two friends wanted to dance near the band. I don't dance. Especially after my wife once told me, "You look funny when you dance tee-hee tee-hee." So I no longer dance. Anyway, this 65 year old greasy, fat woman comes up to me and wraps her legs around me. She then proceeded to dry hump me like a frustrated dog. When she realized my wife was right there, she encouraged me to dance with my wife. I mistakenly admitted that I don't dance, and the woman started grinding into me again and said, "Dancing feels the pussy. Feel the pussy. Feel it. Feel it."
I broke away from the succubus's grasp and made my way to the back picnic benches.
Eventually, my wife, her two friends, and I made our way towards the inside stage. Before getting there, we were stopped by a middle aged man wearing a lifejacket with no shirt on underneath. He asked my friend if she knew CPR. She laughed. He said, "If you do, I could use it right now. My lifejacket isn't going to save me." I then asked why he was wearing a wedding ring on his right hand. He got wide-eyed. I then repeated, "Why are you wearing a wedding band on your right hand?" He said, "Well, my left ring finger was broken and it will only fit on my right hand." I said, "Bending the truth is probably worse than lying. Ask your wife." He said, "Fuck you." And then he walked away.
My wife's two friends - both single - were not amused. But I was already in a foul mood after seeing obese titties and feeling a sweaty, greasy grandma grind against my mid section while telling me to feel her pussy.
The inside stage area was no better. Crammed with people. Mullets abounded. Jean shorts. Wife beaters. Toothless rednecks screaming, dancing, grinding, bumping into anyone and everyone. Nothing I wanted to experience. But the band was playing music, and my wife and her two friends wanted to dance. So in we went.
A fat guy who was bald and wore a thick goatee started dancing horribly right in the middle of us. I walked away after he started trying to get low and humping the air like he had hips worthy of a cornerback. The fat guy danced with the three girls for a minute until he started grinding his ass into them. The girls then laughed and came back towards me.
Of course he followed.
He stuck his finger into my chest and said, "Who the fuck are you?" I said, "I'm the family." He said, "What?" I said, "Well this one is my wife, and these two are my younger sisters." He said, "Oh, your wife. Well that's fine because this one is the one I want." He then lightly flicked his finger on my friend's nose.
The girls, of course, were laughing. I'm seeking the escape route. Or a way to kill this guy.
He then stood in front of me with his bacon back blocking my vision. I was pushed towards the wall behind me, and I was starting to get really frustrated. But he seemed alright. A bit drunk. But he wasn't too much of a threat. He was silly and started making jokes. The girls laughed.
Some minutes went by, and the band took a break. I honestly started zoning out because I was tired from my sunburn, and I had consumed a few beers.
That's when chunky trunks stuck his hand up my friend's skirt and said, "What are you wearing under here?"
She yelped. I grabbed him by the back of his neck and shoved him. He turned around and lunged towards me. I guess you could call it lunging. He was drunk and out of his element. His shoulder went straight into the wall behind me. Two guys with muscles and Flora-Bama uniforms grabbed him and took him out. On their way, they said to me, "You need to get the fuck out of here." I said, "Gladly."
And so we left. And that was my one and only experience at Flora-Bama.
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