I haven’t been to a bar on Division Street in well over 15 years. When Tim mentioned he had to attend a work related event on Friday, I invited myself along. How can I pass up the opportunity to see how the young straight crowd partied.
We arrived at the bar early to check out the VIP Room and set a few things up. As I expected, filthy, run down, no decor to speak of and it stank like old stale booze.
I was amused with the men’s bathroom. Above the urinals, you are bombarded by images of female patrons in varying states of exposure, often with the bathroom attendant grinning from ear to ear. Really no big deal, if you overlook the the fact the bathroom attendant is dressed in a doctors lab coat and has pictures of his wife and children on a bulletin board to the right of the sink.
I was informed the ladies room did provide the female patrons with pictures of men in various stages of undress. After a few drinks, I tried to check it out, but the women I encountered at the bathroom door thought my story about being gay was a bunch of bull crap. Beer goggles help you overlook so much.
The crowds were rolling in and the booze was flowing. Nothing like $1.00 drinks for 90 minutes to get the patrons a bit lubricated. While quietly observing and sipping a Cape Cod, my eyes grew wide like a deer caught in headlights. Sipping turned to gulping as I watch a little person strut his way across the bar and proceeds to coax several patrons to gulp down a beer bong. I was suddenly transported to a giant frat party!
As the evening progressed, female patrons began dancing on the bar (why no men, I wonder). If that wasn’t crazy enough, the little person would saunter onto the bar with a bottle of booze. Each female patron gyrated and humped him for a reward. As if on cue, when the little person raised the bottle of booze, the dancer would squat and gulp down a shot.
I’ve been around the block a few times in my day and nothing about the evening really shocked me. The whole experience was rather liberating. The next time someone tells me gays are nothing but booze swilling, pill popping, promiscuous sinners, I will politely remind them of that old proverb, “Those who live in a glass house should not throw stones”.
