Ken from Kenya

Last night, whilst hitting the Broadripple scene with buddies Annie and Patrick, we had numerous interesting encounters. From people watching/scrutinizing at the Hookah bar, to drinking $3 PBR cans at a dive full of hipsters called The Alley Cat, to a jock bar known as Brothers where we met Timmy (a dead head who unsolicitedly offered us cigs and his life story) and his pal Zale (who went to Wright State but didn't gradute from there), to the end of the night at a little gem of a bar called Landshark. It is at Landshark where hilarity ensued. Not inebriated enough to bust a move of our own, Patrick, Annie, and I observed the antics taking place on the dance floor. From the sisters who both possessed long straight dirty blonde hair, rather large bodies, a penchant for chain smoking, and a blatant distaste for black men to the couple we lovingly named Ebony and Ivory: a white man whose dance moves resembled those of Touchdown Jesus and a young black woman trying her best to get down with this little failure. Of course, also, mounted on a stage next to the DJ booth were Beyonce 1 and 2; both freaking black and milds while they sang along to B's part in Gaga's "Telephone." To the other side, there was a group of awkward white kids celebrating someone's 21st birthday; watching them proved boring, though, as they had their eyes glued to the TV screen displaying the music video of whatever song was playing. And who can forget Angel Wings? I think it's safe to say that at every bar there is one of these: a woman who has gotten angel wings tattooed to her back and as a testimony to her dedication to this heinous choice feels the need to display them at all times by wearing a cami. We stood watching this glorious scene for a good amount of time before the wall was broken and we were suddenly part of the action. Seconds after Patrick conspicuously ran from high school acquaintances, a tall dark man in a red polo grabbed Annie by the waist. Without saying a word, this mystery man pulled Annie amongst the charcters we had previously been watching. As if we sent him an ESP message, Patrick was back just in time to witness this magical moment. While Patrick and I danced with each other, we attemped to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place between this mystery man and Annie. All we can pick up is Annie whining, "Why me?" The man responds smoothly by saying, "Because you're beautiful." Annie does not fall prey to this trap; rather she tries to fight this flirtation every step of the way. Instead of dancing with this man, Annie suggests numerous replacements: "Why don't you dance with her?" Annie said while pointing to one of the chubby smoking sisters. Mystery Man says, "She's too fat. I don't know how to dance with fat women." Annie then suggested he go for me or a black girl; but mystery man was not having it: his eyes were set on the prize. In an attempt to allow this encounter to continue Patrick and I begin chanting "Go Melissa! Go Melissa!" as a way to create anonymity, an attempt to let Annie feel more comfortable in the situation, to let herself go. Our attempt proved futile, though. With the man standing right behind her Annie turns to us and screams: "HE'S 28! HE IS KEN FROM KENYA!" However, Ken from Kenya seems unphased, or rather oblivious, to Annie's obvious rejection. Try as we might, Patrick and I could not convince our new friend "Melissa" to give Ken just one booty shake, so we had to leave before things got too sticky. As a way to show Ken that it was over Patrick yelled to Annie and me, "Hey you wanna go have a threesome?" And to that we rolled out of Landshark. As we exited the realm of the dance floor, I looked back to examine the expression on Ken's face; he had retreated to a corner of the dancefloor looking toward us with a sad puppy dog face. My heart went out to him and somehow amongst the black lights and blaring music, we made eye contact. I mouthed the words "I'm sorry!" and he mouthed, "What?" But it was too late to explain so in an effort to rid all of us of Ken, I flicked him off.