Just another night out…

As if my recent “Awards Banquet” evening didn’t have enough twists and turns, there was an “after banquet” event that stayed in my head…

Although we were ridiculously over-dressed, a friend an i decided to keep drinking hang out after the awards banquet.  Considering options, we agreed on a local watering hole – known for being friendly, rowdy, and on a Thursday night, full of twenty-something party dawgs.  Undeterred, we arrived – me in a cocktail dress, and him looking edible in a tux.

Other than a little flirty chatter about my outfit with the doorman, i’m pretty sure no one batted an eye when we arrived.  Snagged a gin and tonic and a table, while my “date”* was chatted up by a young lovely at the bar who insisted on buying him a beer.  Sheesh.  i had to buy my own…

Taking in the “scene”, i noted packs of youngish “ruffian” boys – perhaps drinking after a Thursday night softball game.  College-aged girls – decked out in party gear, sporting muffin-tops and wearing too much make up – arriving to feast on the sweaty ruffians.  The juke box played everything from country ballads to hip hop to classic rock.  A typical night at a suburban pub.

Completely out of place – at the end of the bar – sat a middle-aged man.  Wavy gray pompadour, glued into shape and polished to a soft glow.  Suspenders.  Dress slacks – a bit on the short side – with light colored socks and loafers.  Thick glasses.  Drinking what appeared to be ice water from a red plastic tumbler.  On the bar in front of him was a “day planner” or notebook.  At nearly 10 pm on a Thursday night, he just didn’t seem to fit…

With Pretty Boy being chatted up by a starry-eyed brunette at the bar, my character study was disrupted by new arrivals.  Two young women arrived.  One wearing a shiny metallic blue bicycle helmet.  She was sort of plain, but cute and animated in her conversation with the doorman.  With much flapping and gesticulating, while her silent friend watched eagerly, the doorman finally waved her inside…  As she walked by, i noticed she was carrying a unicycle**.  The bar is on a four lane commercial highway.  Riding a unicycle to get there?  At night?

As she met up with some of the ruffians, a few of them playfully pounded her on the helmet, and after a couple minutes, she returned to the door, thanked the doorman and was on her way.  With Adonis the Wonder Date now being virtually dry-humped by his gal pal, i walked to the door to inquire about the incident.

daisyfae:  Did a helmeted girl with a unicycle just walk through here?

doorman:  Yep.  Here most Thursdays…

daisyfae:  Thanks.  Just wanted to make sure someone hadn’t slipped hallucinogens into my gin and tonic.

doorman:  One of the Rugby Girls. 

daisyfae:  And most certainly a virgin.  i’m sure her mother is proud…

Returning to the table, Pretty Boy was back – having missed the entire incident.  He questioned my sanity, and we went on to talk about “Old Joe” at the bar, speculating on his “Story”… Addled?  Molester?  Clueless?  Lost?  Dropping back into office-related gossip, and comparing dating horror stories, we eventually lost interest in Old Joe.

When the karaoke started a few minutes later, the first song was a Sinatra number.  None other than Old Joe, singing his heart out!  Not a horrible voice, but a little shaky…  Turns out it wasn’t a calendar he had on the bar in front of him, but a CD case – he’d brought his own karaoke CDs.  Sign of a karaoke whore professional. When he finished, the Rugby Ruffians cheered him on, then went back to their ass-grabbing and beer-swilling.

The whole thing just made me smile… There’s a natural rhythm to humanity sometimes.  People drop in and out, catching up with the step of the moment.  New dancers featured for a solo, then dropping back into the chorus.  But when the harmonies come together, too?  Magic…


* Very, very pretty friend.  He looks about 30 years old, and leaves a trail of drooling girlies everywhere he goes.  Marginally oblivious to it, which makes it very fun to watch!

** No.  Not THE unicycle.  Although the girl was nearly a ringer for the cute kid that bought mine…

14 thoughts on “Just another night out…

  1. The guy you thought was a professional karaoke singer was actually a Private Eye (a Dick). He goes there every Thursday. You see the girl on the unicycle was the his daughter. He never was able to have a relationship with her because the woman he knocked up left the state after she found out she was pregnant.

    Recently “Dick” was working on another case when he ran across his former lover’s information. That gave him the lead he had been looking for for years.

    Finally, he was able to see the little girl he has always wondered about. 🙂

  2. So she didnt take the helmet off… I remember those kids at school, hours into the school day still completely oblivious they still had the old stack hat on.

  3. *sigh*

    I remember the days. Virtually dry-humping guys in bars. Now all the humping is virtual..

    Well, ok, I’m lying.

    But it sounded good in my head.

  4. awalkabout – my imagination does not include girls who ride unicycles at night along busy highways. there’s a mother hormone or two that seems to interfere! this one? couldn’t make it up… an entertaining night out!

    mssc54 – Hmmm… you may be onto something! Will rename him “Old Dick” when i tell this again!

    alex – she was only there a few minutes. doorman told me she was 19 – which is too young to be in a bar in the US (sad, but true), so he seemed to be letting her in just to tell someone something… but then said “she’s here every Thursday night” which makes me wonder why she has to come by every Thursday to wander in, say a few words to a rugby player, and leave…. may have to revisit this pub…

    tNb – Oooooh! Hadn’t thought of that! After “Rugby Girl” leaves, she’s captured and bagged by a guy with a safari rifle, stuffed and her metallic blue helmeted head is mounted on the wall of his den, next to an Anime Chick, a Cheerleader, a Girl Scout (mouth full of cookies) and a Stripper…

    dolce – “Now all the humping is virtual.. Oh, please, girl… it’s a miracle you can even walk from the sounds of it…

    nm – Just sorry there wasn’t a clown there. With an axe… OK. NOT sorry there was no clown. i wouldn’t have stayed so long…

  5. you didn’t happen to get the old guy’s phone number, did you?
    After I turn 70, I’m starting a general business combo called
    “Comb-Over 5000” and I think he’d be a perfect fit.
    Did his toupe come with a chinstrap, I hope?
    Sounds like an awesome night to me . . .

  6. snee – Welcome to The Park! Glad you stopped by! And yes, it was trippy… i’ve been there many times – it’s where we go to drink heavily late in the workday hold off-site strategic planning meetings, but this was one of the rare times i’ve been there at night…

    unbearable banishment – exactly! had another one last night – out for “Latin Dance Night” at a local tapas restaurant… and while catching my breath at my table, looked out at the 50 or so people wriggling themselves silly on the dancefloor… no one thinking about the economy, politics, life or work stress… they were smiling. they were dancing… beauty!

    silverstar – sometimes i wonder if i’m like the proverbial “flypaper for freaks”, but i think it’s mostly because i tend to visit odd venues and partake of some unusual activities (community theater alone is enough to draw the freaks and get you into strange circumstances!)

    annie – she was further south… about 30 miles. and my suit was at the cleaners!

    ~m – no, i didn’t get his phone number. hadn’t thought of asking to tell you the truth, but in hindsight, i might have gotten him to buy me a drink! No chinstrap on the hair hat… curious to know more about “Comb-Over 5000″…

  7. …sporting muffin-tops…

    Oh, is that the style these days?

    I bet “Old Joe” owns the place, you know, kind of in a Tony Soprano way.

    Girl with a helmet….last time I saw one of those was on a transit bus in Calgary while going to university. There was a vocational place across the street from the campus where, um, mentally challenged folk whiled away the hours. The helmet wearer was headed there.

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