By Popular Demand: Alex’s Dahmer Story
7 Comments Published by Alex January 30th, 2007 in Survival. Share This
You asked for it.
Okay, so flashback to 1990. I’m living in Wisconsin, and not yet 21 years old. My friend Cindy tells me that the best clubs in Milwaukee are the Mad Planet, La Cage, and 219. The latter two were gay bars. No stranger to underage drinking at gay bars (I went to high school just outside of NYC and back then those were the best places to get in with questionable ID), I had no hang-ups about that sort of thing, and I’ve always enjoyed queer culture anyway.
She introduces me to her weird artist friend Brad, and one night we wind up going to 219 midweek. Brad’s a short, slender, and swarthy looking guy whose ethnicity you can’t really discern. He files under ‘exotic’, whereas I was merely a run of the mill white goth rock kid. He was always being hit on, and consequently had to buy a lot less drinks than me.
The tale picks up after the jump.
One time out, this dude comes up to us and starts making kind of weird small talk. He’s a little bit shifty looking, blond, has thick glasses that he keeps taking off and putting back on again. Crap Freddy Mercury moustache. While he’s been hitting on me too, he’s fairly persistent with Brad. Brad took two beers off of him and starts getting drunk fast. Too drunk, actually – he’s only had three or four by this point and he usually quaffs down a fair bit more than that before the end of the night. He’s getting sloppy and I decide to haul him out of there and drive him home. My friend passes out a little bit in the car, so I have to rouse him and help him up two flights of stairs. I crash on the couch. The next morning he’s got one hell of a hangover and neither of us understands why.
So naive, we never even suspected that he’d been dosed with anything. Now, we’re pretty sure he was.
Flash forward a few months. Dahmer’s arrest kind of made a hell of a lot of local news and his picture was everywhere. I’m sure I’ve seen that face before but I can’t place it. One day shortly after the buzz dies down, I’m over at Brad’s place and we’re talking about the murders and such. Almost at the same instant we both realize—holy shit—that was the guy!
I still like gay bars a lot, though I’ve been buying my own drinks for a long time now, ever since I’ve learned that all gay dudes are cannibals.
Wow. Brad’s head almost ended up in a fridge!
That’s fantastic, I’m jealous, I couldn;t even get molested in Catholic school. I don’t really have a problem with canibals as long as they don’t try to recruit my children. You were like Sally Struthers saving that third world child’s life.
Wow, that is quite a story. It’s a good thing you had the presence of mind to notice he was getting more wrecked than he should have and got out of there. Few can say they’ve been hit on by a serial killer!
“Few can say they’ve been hit on by a serial killer” – I’m not so sure of that. The Feds seem to think that at any given time, there are upwards of 35-50 active serial killers on the loose in this country alone.
I bet they buy a lotta drinks.
I love this story!
As an aside…Anthony Kiedis hit on me/bought many drinks back in the day. I say he may as well be a serial killer. His music is so bad, and he is so obnoxious it really does make me want to hurt someone. Or perhaps just kill him, either way I say that counts.
I wonder what other creepy famous people encounters people have had?
i met joey lawrence once. woah was it creepy.
Graham Chapman of Mony Python kinda-sorta hit on me during his college tour in the late eighties. Or maybe he was just a nice guy willing to give me his autograph. The hit-on-me story is better (for my ego).