“It requires a light buzz that prepares you for the madness.” – Zero

A circus sideshow was in town and everyone was strangely at ease. We’d be surrounded by madmen, grifters, vagabonds, and freaks. Strange beasts would lurk about, preparing to pounce on any newly single woman. Patrons and performers would blend eerily together, making it the perfect hiding spot from the mundane. It was time to prepare.

A special occasion always requires a check list. Necessities must be acquired: A fifth of Jack Daniels, a happy meal sized 30 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and a pack of black and mild for the occasional craving. We usually don’t bring our own alcohol, but we felt tonight everyone would understand. The circus was in town, and you need to be prepared for an evening like this. One does not simply walk into Squidling Brothers Circus sober. It’s an event best suited for a light buzz that prepared you for the feats and oddities that the night will behold. A pocket sized Jack Daniels is best suited for these types situations. We packed up our gear and boarded the get the hell out of Jersey express.

Upon arrival we flagged down the first available cab. A taxi screeched to halt in front of us. “WHERE TO GENTLEMEN,” yelled the taxi driver his face full of excitement and panic or perhaps the result of a little too much speed. “We need to get to this address my man. The circus is in town,” JB said. “AH YES INDEED!!,” he exclaimed visually shaking. We knew off the start we had the perfect driver he was trained for situations like this. “TO THE MADNESS!” I shouted. He floored the taxi speeding through yellow, and a few red lights while weaving through traffic. JB and I braced ourselves for a complete NASCAR spectacular failure. “HAVE YOU GENTLEMEN BEEN DRINKING YET TONIGHT,” still using his outdoor concert shouting voice he used when he pulled up. “WHY YES, YES WE HAVE. WHY DO YOU ASK?,” yelled JB back at him. “SO HAVE I!! HA! HA! HA! HA!” he half laugh-yelled. Tonight was already off to an amazing start.

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The taxi driver slammed on the brakes, patrons entering the place stared. “FIVE DOLLARS GENTLEMEN,” still yelling. We handed him a 10 an thanked his lack of concern and perfect entrance. It was time to invade the circus. We stomped up the stairs to behold a beautiful sight. Belly dancers, fortune tellers, a magician, strangers in top hats, and a man carrying swords. It was magical perfection. Sounds of dubstep filled the room prompting us it was time for a beer and prepare ourselves for the show.


The night was filled with scantily dressed women dancing and bizarre human distortions. It was the type of night you expected women to have money stapled to their bodies. People to lift heavy objects with their nipples and fire breathing, perhaps not from heavy intoxication but instead as an art form. Sexy girls with hoola hoops mesmerized us. I could hardly move my eyes off her intoxicating swivels.

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“This is perfect. We needed a great escape, but the nights still young,” JB turned and said to me. He was right. Words could hardly describe the sights and sounds we saw tonight. We shared a few beers with other patrons and clapped our hands like excited children. It was an escape from an escape. We momentarily left our own heads and on trip that was hard to forget. The night came to quick end. Where could we go that was open? One of the circus performers saw our apparent look of dread. “What’s wrong gentlemen?” he asked kindly. Their performance left us with more adventure than we could handle. “It’s early but late, there’s drinking to be done!” I replied. “Ah yes, I have a favorite little spot that I recommend called Ruba Hall, it’s open until 3 A.M.” he said. Adventure never sleeps, and neither did we.


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