But Patrick Swayze was a no-show! (originally written 4/8/07)

So anyway, for those of you who haven't heard, my job ha taken me to the mecca of redneck civilization in North Carolina (or at least it seems that way. work is going well. I love my job and especially the company I work for. I'm working at a plant in Semora, NC, which is just about on the border of NC and Virginia. My original plan when I relocated here was to live in durham and then commute every day. I had found a great apartment complex in Chapel Hill, but the commute was jsut too much to do every day (about 45 to an hour each way). So I moved to Roxboo, which is only about ten minutes away from work.
the only problem with this is the town is byond small. And just like so many small towns, the ones who still live here are the ones that couldn't get out. All of the women here who are in their mid to early twenties are either married, or not something I'm interested in (redneck women, no matter what Gretchen Wilson sings, are not hot; country girls are - I realize that this may seem contradictory, but it's a very fine line). for the life of me I've been trying to figure out what, other than agriculture, maintains the economy of the area, and nfortunately last weekend I found out exactly what.
We had a poker ame at the house (I'm living with three other guys from the plant). Actually, I'm getting ahead of myself; right now i'm living in a house with three other guys. This is better stuation than the last place, which was a goat farm. while the goat farm was a little closer to work and the hosue was a bit dilapidated, I always had a date in the backyard (sorry, that's an old joke about people from Kentucky "where the men are men and the goats are scared!"). so last weekend we decided to have a poker game at the house, and afterward we were going to the only decent barin town. Everyone but the two survey guys Tyson and Tim deided at the last minute not go.
i do have to say that on the way to the bar Tim decided to bust out a freestyle with the musi on the radio and he definitely rhyed "Bumper sticker says I'm goin' fishin'" with "bumpin' that shit in my Ford Expedition" which I still can'tfigure out if tht gets some sort of award for "whitest rap ever." So we get to the bar, and Tim starts dancing with anyone showing at least a litle interest. Best part was the women showig the most interest were the large African american ladies to our right. Highest of high comedy.
So apparently a little later tyson accidentily runs into a guy. no harm, no foul, or apparently not. A few minutes later i'm talking to a girl who tyson knew, and a bottle immediately shatters on the far side of Tyson. By the time I've turned around about thirty people had hit the deck (I grabbed the bar at the last minute)and security is gabbing tyson, Tim and I and hauling us out of the bar. We et outside and group of these Cro-Magnons is standing in the doorway ylling all kinds of shit at us, the cops all pull up, and security still has a hold of the three of us. the cops all get out of their cars and line up a perimeter on the sidewalk, and I walk over to Tim (who lost his shirt in the scrum) and try to get him to calm down. I then walk over to tyson and see all kinds of blood on his left shirt shoulder. He turns his head and there's a piece of beer bottle lodged in his neck.
the cops (who hadn't done anything to this poit) then walk over and tell us how we need to calm down. So i ask what they're going to do about Tyson's neck. This cop then calls an ambulance to take him to the hospial, because the rest of us can't leave the scene. i'm told I ned to go back into the bar 9which I think my first response was "You must be CRAZY!") So I walk into the bar. Tim finds a ride back to his house. I then go into the bar and run into the only hot woman I've met since I've been here. So I flirt wih her for about an hour while while her boyfriend looks on. The worst part was while I was talking to her, her boyfriends friend walks over and tells me i shouldn't be talking to her. So i look at him square in the eyes and say "we're onl talking here. What are you going to do, hit me over the head with a beer bottle?" Needless to say someone get me out of Roxboro.