Hypothetical: You’re at a Chili’s airport bar in St. Louis waiting for your flight to your buddy’s wedding. You are the best man. You’re sucking down a couple tall lagers and some delectable southwestern egg rolls. You hear a faint barking noise from the other side of the bar. You look over to see none other than rapper, producer, and actor DMX. He’s foaming at the mouth. You fight the urge to get all all-fours and start barking recklessly to demonstrate solidarity.
DMX stumbles over to your end of the bar, double fisting two shots. He cozies up next to you and grabs a southwestern egg roll off your plate. No one steals your southwestern egg rolls. Except DMX. He has complete autonomy over you. You are powerless.
He asks the bartender for a round of beverages. You offer to pay, since, well D has been in some legal trouble lately. DMX reaches in his pocket and pulls out a handful of dry dog food with a few crumbled bills embedded inside. DMX just bought you a drink. That’s what friends do.
The Ruff Rider starts preaching to you about forgiveness and choices and God’s plan, and for a second you consider asking him if he wants to get matching Christian cross tattoos. You are an atheist and you’ve never been to church. DMX has made you a believer. In a Chili’s airport bar. You found God in a truly hopeless place.
You look up at the clock and realize that your flight is boarding. You’ve memorized your best man speech and it’s mint. The groom has already laid important groundwork for you with the most attractive bridesmaid. She’s a former gymnast and rumor has it she has no gag reflex. For what it’s worth.
It’s decision time.
DMX motions to the bartender and barks four times. The bartender brings over four more Mad Dogs. He pays in Chuckie Cheese tokens, knowing damn well the Chili’s airport bartender isn’t going to confront a man whose been barking like an Rottweiler since he arrived at the establishment.
You call your friend before the biggest day of his life and tell him that you won’t be attending the wedding, citing extraneous circumstances. Turning away from DMX would be like turning away from God himself. And you’re not going to risk going to hell just got an open bar, delicious finger foods, an honorable best man designation, and a chance with the gagless gymnast.
You are suddenly overcome with a wave of guilt. You are tempted and run to your flight when you hear the Ruff Riders Anthem come on through the Chili’s speakers. Instinctively, you stop and begin barking. You turn back for a duet with the man himself. He’s nowhere to be found. You look down and there is a bill in front of you for $188.37, amounting to all the drinks you two have shared.
DMX has stuck you with the bill. You have missed your flight.
You skipped out on you best friend’s wedding to bankroll DMX’s drinks. At Chili’s. In the airport.
You’re a fucking asshole.
….well, that may or may not be what went down in the video below. I choose to believe it did.