If you don't make it to Buffalo for the square, there's not all that much going on around Lockport on a Thursday night. Around midnight I'm about to just go to bed when Bob calls me up, seeing if I want to find something to do. Always looking for adventure, I agree to go out.
We head out to Finnans to meet some girl. There is about ten people at this bar and this girl we're meeting is already destroyed when we get there. We hang out there for a beer and decide we're going to try to find somewhere else to go.
Before we leave we somehow get into conversation with an interesting black man named Fred, who is sitting outside on a bench. He offers to sell us weed really cheap for a ride home. We decline. He then starts talking about how he was a veteran and all this other random talk. We're in a two seater pickup truck and he lives completely out of the way. I buy him a drink instead of giving him a ride. We leave Fred and the completely wasted girl at the bar.
We drive by Taboo which is sometimes ok on a Thursday. Nope, not today. Looks like they're pretty much closed. We decide to drive by a couple more bars. Nothing going on anywhere. I remember that the Ski Lodge, which is a crappy little dive bar, has karaoke on Thursday nights. It could at least provide for some laughs. We decide to check it out.
On the way to the Ski Lodge we realize what the most happening place in Lockport is on a Thursday night, Casa Montego. The parking lot to this place is pretty decent sized, and this place is packed. For those of you who aren't familiar with Casa Montego, it is a bar that I believe is owned by Jamaicans. It is the shadiest place in Lockport. On Thursday nights they have exotic dancers. Very few white boys have ever dared go in there. We do not know of any of our friends who have ever even stepped foot in the place.
We decide that we can't possibly go there, so we go to the Ski Lodge. After a drink there, we realize karaoke sucks and decide to just head home. The night seems like a total loss. We start to discuss how we wish we had black friends so that they could take us to Casa Montego. I then remind Bob that we do have a black friend who happens to need a ride home, Fred!!!
We decide that we will see if he is still at Finnans. If he agrees to introduce us to Casa Montego, we will give him a ride home. We call drunk girl to see if Fred is still there. He is and she puts him on the phone. He is all about the idea and says, "yeah my brother’s, best friend’s, dad owns it, we'll be treated like royalty."
After some contemplating over whether or not it's a good idea to pick up a random black man who has already tried to sell us drugs and take him to a Jamaican strip club, we decide that it is obviously a GREAT idea and go pick him up. On the way I realize that bars in Niagara County close at 2am during the week. It is around 1:30 when we are heading to pick up Fred. We decide that maybe this bar, being so ghetto, won't close right at 2.
We get to the bar and see Fred still sitting on the same bench outside. He tells us it doesn't matter that it's so late because his brother’s friend’s dad or whoever owns the place, so we head to Casa Montego.
As we approach the place at around 2, we realize that we are, indeed, too late. The parking lot is nearly empty. We decide to go in anyways, because of Fred's promise of being treated like royalty. Fred walks in. Actually, he drunkenly stumbles in, as he is much more intoxicated than I had realized. There are two guys in hoodies sitting at the bar and a bartender who says they're closed. Fred stumbles around looking for someone he knows, but no one else is there. The two guys at the counter wave him over. They don't look too happy. Me and Bob are standing right in front of the door, ready to get the hell out of there. The two guys have a close, quiet conversation with Fred, then we leave. Fred won't tell us what they said. We are still happy that we can finally say we stepped foot in there, although one foot is about as far as we get.
We all go pee in the parking lot and get back into the truck. Time to take Fred home. Fred is not ready to go home. He tries to sell us more drugs, saying he can get us whatever we want. We do not want anything. He then tries to sell us liquor, claiming he is a liquor distributor. He says he can get us 6 bottles of Jack Daniels for $50. Now who can pass up a deal like that?
Still looking for something to come out of this night, we agree to drive Fred to go get the liquor. He directs us to some house in the ghetto, which he claims is his "stash house." It looks pretty shady. We sit in the street, waiting for Fred to come out. He comes back to the truck empty handed. He then directs us to another "stash house."
We pull into the driveway of this house and he wants us to give him money. We refuse, as we do not know this man. He gives us his wallet as collateral. He then goes into the house for a while. He comes out again, empty handed. He gets back into the truck and claims we now have to stop somewhere else. We are beginning to question ourselves. Was this really a good idea to pickup this wasted, war veteran, drug dealer and possible crack head and drive him all over?
We drive him across the city to another ghetto area where he goes into an apartment building. This is starting to look really shady. We decide we just want to get our money back. We watch the building and there seems to be a lot of activity going on. Shitty cars with rims are rolling up and leaving, quite possibly buying and selling various drugs.
Fred has been gone for 15 minutes. We are not about to walk in there to get him. The gas light has been on for a while and we decide this is the last place we want to be if we run out of gas. We drive to a gas station and decide that Fred can keep the money and we'll try to pump $50 worth of gas into the truck on his credit cards. I scan 4 of them and none of them go through. Shit! We fill the tank up and drive back to the apartment building, hoping that Fred is waiting for us.
We get back, and no sign of Fred. We wait for a few minutes and he finally stumbles out, empty handed. He says we have to go somewhere else now. We try to get our money back but Fred says he still plans to get us the Jack, we just have to go to another house. We know he doesn't have the money. Fred won't explain to us what he's doing, but we are pretty certain that he is using our money to buy and sell drugs and we are being is personal chauffeur. We tell him we'll take him to one last house, and he better come out with the Jack or the money. He agrees to this.
We take him to the next house. He wants us to come in, but we refuse. I'm not about to get robbed by some crazy drug dealer. We weren't afraid of Fred because he was an older man and we could just beat his ass, but walking into these shady houses, who knows what we'd be facing?
Fred goes in and we wait. And wait. It's another 15 minutes and we are not happy. It's 3:30am and we're sitting in a driveway in the middle of the ghetto. What's the best idea now? I encourage Bob to lay on the horn. I don't care who it pisses off. Fred better get his ass out.
After revving the engine for a while and laying on the horn, Fred does not come out. Apparently he doesn't care that we still have his wallet. We decide to cut our losses and leave. It's only $25 a piece so it's not that big of a deal. I've lost much more than that in a shorter period of time at the casino.
As we leave I start to look through the wallet. New York state ID card; dude doesn't have a license. VA card; Dumbass might need that. Several credit cards. I look into the part where there should be money. All that is there is a big list of phone numbers and some coupons to KFC. Not surprised at all. We may have lost some money, and didn't get the Jack, but at least we can save $3 on a bucket of fried chicken!