Thursday night, after an intimidating but ultimately harmless line of storms had passed, Floyd and I gathered a few friends to celebrate our birthdays. The Jayhawker offered cheap martinis with names like "Blue Lagoon", "Snowdrift", and "Breakfast at Tiffany's". The table was on its third round when Floyd's friend Sam addressed me with a strange look in his eye.
"Do you ever see something and it takes you a minute to figure out if you're hallucinating or not? I just saw that guy at the bar whip his cock out."
The man middle-aged, wearing a white t-shirt and blue gym shorts. No one else seemed to witness the event, including the young woman that stood nearest him, who presumably (indirectly) instigated the cock-whipping.
"He's really close to getting kicked out," our waitress said. "This happens all the time on Thursday nights."
"People whip their cocks out every Thursday?"
"No, people just get crazy."