Students and College Park residents enjoy the nightlife at RJ Bentley’s on Tuesday, June 17th.
Warning. Article may contain graphic images.
As well as major el oh els.
I got off from work at Chipotle on Saturday and was planning on going home, but that’s not what happened. I got a call from my roommate screaming “SHEA! COME TO BENTS!”
Bentley’s. R.J. Bentley’s.
In a completely different direction than James Bond. No black-tie attire. Just boat shoes. Plaid shorts. Short skirts. Jeans. And in my case, a Chipotle uniform. I reeked of half-eaten burritos.
After getting a free drink from “someone taking [his] chances at a free burrito,” (thank you, bartender. I’ll be of service to you soon) my friends and I decided to go outside. A few drinks later and all of our bladders were downstairs yelling, “I WILL leak on that hottie with the handlebar mustache if you don’t go pee.” So off we went into Bent’s BR.
Classic girl train. We’re at the caboose. Two girls in a stall. Two girls out. So glad women travel in packs, because that means when you think you’re so, so far back in line and then 16 girls go in at once, all pee and leave, you’re free to release. I release you, Sprite and vodka, RELEASE!
I noticed chicks going in both the first and third stalls but overlooking the second, until my friends were the conductors.
“Hoe-lee. Shit. Shea.”
“Haha, what man?”
HOLY SHIT IT’S MCCAIN!
No. It was. That much worse.
Seven million turds. And urine. Inside. Of a single. Twelve-inch tall. White. Plastic.
BUCKET.
I…
Stood there … looking.
And asking myself, the same thing. Over and over again, like Neil Patrick Harris.
After my friends took a whiz, one girl in line complained that others were simply passing the “perfectly good stall” up and proceeded to go toward the bucket. Door closes.
MOTHEROFGAHD.
And my two friends, after nudging.
I heard the term “ratchet” thrown around a lot. And, if I’m harnessing my inner vomiting diva, s— was definitely RATCHET. My friend raised the question, “Who RAISED them?” And I thought about it.
Society of bucket dwellers, construction workers with a porta-potty shortage, barbarians, painters.
I’ve been told that the bucket was flipped over at first, covering some exposed pipes. So I guess there WAS some validity to it. But hats off to the person who decided to flip it right-side up. Well … wrong side up. On a scale of one to even. I still can’t.
In the end, as always, Bentley’s seems to be quite the shit show
… most literally.
Image placed to counteract previous imagery: Shirley Temple giggling. Because, Shirley you need this right now.
