Aug 12 2008
My Crazy Friend Gary vs French Butler
One of my friends is a New Zealander. Let’s call him Gary. Gary is a tall, thin, guy who always seems to be wearing a suit, even on the weekend. He’s also the most inappropriately hilarious person I’ve ever met. Gary’s off-hand comments have the power to stop a roomful of conversations. In fact, I’d have to make a separate “Firefly Black Label” just to discuss some of his best moments.
One Saturday, Gary gave me a call.
“Oi. What ya up to?” he asked, skipping time wasting formalities, such as “hello”.
“Nothing, how come?” I replied.
Gary rattled off the names of a few friends of mine. “We’re all going to a butler party. You should come.” Gary said.
“A what?” I asked, adjusting the phone on my ear to make sure I heard correctly.
“A fucking butler party. There are butlers, and it’s a party.” Gary said slowly, as if he was explaining to a 5 year-old.
“Why would I want to go to a party with butlers?” I asked, half-expecting some kind of trap.
“For a laugh. It’s 2,000 yen and all the piss you can drink. We’re all going to get smashed. See you at Ebisu at 7pm.” Gary said, hanging up.
I stood for a moment, deciding. Gary is an extreme guy, but I always have a blast every time I spend time with him. It’s entertaining watching him and guessing what he’s going to do next. I press the hang-up button out of habit on my phone, walk to my bedroom and pick out an outfit.
An hour and a half later, I arrive at Ebisu station. I look around. My group of friends is easy to spot. 5 gaijin in the sea of Japanese flowing through Ebisu station. I walk over. A couple of minutes later, we’re on our way.
“So… a butler party?” I ask one of my friends.
“Yeah. There are going to be chicks there too, and all-you-can drink alcohol! It’s going to be awesome!” he enthused.
I raised an eyebrow, and we continued walking towards the party. A moment later, we arrived at the elevator. I had a chance to get a glimpse of everyone. Everyone was looking pretty stylish, and Gary was leading the way dressed in an expensive suit. 5 dressed up gaijin invading a butler party in Ebisu.
Gary jumped in the elevator, pressed the Elevator button and flashed us all a grin. “ALL ABOARD TO BUTLER PARTY !!!” he shouted, like some kind of psychotic elevator operator.
We climbed aboard the tiny elevator, and pushed it pretty much to capacity. A few seconds later, the doors opened. We lined up, and paid our money at the door.
As we walked into the party, a tall French Butler said in an obnoxious French accent, “Oh loook! Eet is the backstreet boys.”
What a dick, I thought, as I made my way to the bar. I ordered a red wine, and headed over to talk to my friends.
I looked over at the bar to see Gary ordering a beer. They poured his beer, and handed it to him. He stood on the spot, grinned at the girl behind the counter, raised the beer glass and finished in one gulp. He firmly placed his glass back on the counter.
“More!” he said with an infectious grin.
The bargirl regarded him coolly as she re-filled his beer. He repeated the show. “More!!” he said again.
She re-filled once more, and then pointed over to our group. “Please come back again!” she said in frustrated English.
“Oh don’t you worry about that, love!” He said, scooping up his beer.
He came over to me, and we were chatting for a few minutes, when Gary noticed I didn’t have any of my drink left. Gary peered suspiciously at my empty glass.
“Wheres your drink?” he exclaimed.
“I ran out about 10 seconds ago,” I replied, joining him in looking at my empty glass.
Gary frowned. He scanned the room. About 3 meters away was the French Butler who commented “eet is the backstreet boys!” when we came to the party. Gary’s eyes fixed on the French Backstreet Boy Butler. Gary’s frown deepened, and his eyes narrowed.
“HEEY. BAATLAAAA.” He shouted.
The French Butler stiffened slightly, and slowly turned to face Gary. He looked at Gary with distaste.
“GET OVER HERE.” Gary yelled at the disgruntled butler.
The French Butler walked a few steps over and stood in front of Gary, looking down his nose at both of us.
“Yes… sir?” the French Butler said slowly, through gritted teeth.
“Whats this?” Gary asked, pointing at my empty glass.
“An empty glass.” The Butler replied with a hint of a scowl on his mouth.
“Right. Not much of a fucking BUTLER are YA?” Gary said to the Butler, while wildly gesturing.
The Butler coughed.
“Would you like another drink, sir?” The Butler asked me, doing his best to ignore Gary.
“Uh… yeah.” I said embarrassed that my empty drink was causing this kind of scene. “Another red wine would be great.”
“On your fucking bike then. A red wine. PRONTO. Come on then !” Gary said, shooing away the Butler, who was turning an odd shade of red.
There was a moment of silence between Gary and I.
“Wow.” I said in shock. “That backstreet boys comment must have really pissed you off.”
“What backstreet boys comment?” Gary barked, finishing his beer.
Classic Gary.
