Welcome to week one of the summer project of 2007, Bar Tuesdays. 14 Weeks, 14 Bars - let's do this.
Week One: Groucho's
Oh, Groucho's. Before we headed out last night, my mom warned me, "Do NOT stay there late. The police are always going there, breaking up fights." Good to know. When I picked up Paul, he told me that his mother told him the same thing. When we pulled into the dirt-and-hole laden parking lot filled with burly bikers, our fears were not immediately put at ease. However, when we saw the "Karaoke Nitely" sign outside, we knew the night would be picking up. Any place that displays a sign spelling nightly in that fashion is bound to be good for some people watching.
When we first walked in, Paul and I were kind of disappointed because it was pretty nice inside. We want dinge! We want darkness! We want mullets! Actually, that last one they did have. But the place also had some big screen TVs and a Golden Tee machine. There were seats at the bar along with some tables outside of the dance floor, but we both saw our home for the night the moment we walked in. For some unknown reason, there was a couch and two end chairs set up below the pool tables, and the set looked like something an elderly woman might have in her home. We immediately dubbed it "The VIP Section" and made our way over to wait for Lauren and Kristin to arrive. During that time, we were privy to overhearing some entertaining chatter from the folks playing pool, such as multiple references to pocket pool and a guy talking about taking a big piss and then changing it to a big shit. You know, typical cocktail party conversation. Not too long after the girls arrived, the night threatened to be uneventful outside of a moth attacking me and then moving on to Paul. The place was a lot nicer than we expected it to be, especially with "the honeymoon suite" table:
And, of course, the VIP section:
Thankfully, the night picked up after a short lull. First, Paul went to the bathroom and returned with this report: "Okay, there is a steel trough in there for a urinal. It's creepy. Then, there is a bar of soap on the sink instead of a dispenser and the bar of soap has a piece of something red in it. Again, creepy." I had to see this steel trough for myself, so on his second bathroom pass, I sent my camera along for the trip. Behold:
I...what...I...how many different levels of awkward can there be if there is more than one person using that at a time? Ew.
What is in that soap?
Thankfully, I fared better in the ladies room. The only creepy thing in there was a giant ant crawling the floor. Dive bars, yay!
But the bathroom stuff and the pocket pool talk and the biker claiming I tripped him to save face when he stumbled up the stairs that were about five feet away from me was all just appetizers leading up to the main course: Mike. Throughout the night, the jukebox would start up now and again, mostly playing some southern rock or Guns n' Roses. However, after a long break with no music, a song started blasting out that made us all turn to each other with puzzled looks. That song? The Boyz II Men classic ballad, I'll Make Love To You. WHAT??!! As we were still trying to determine whether or not one of us snuck over and played it as a joke, we got our answer when this creepy guy sashayed out to the edge of the dance floor and started swaying and singing along. This was Mike. Well, that was all Paul needed to get him going. Let me just take a moment to point out that Paul is worse than me in the "has no shame" department, so he jumped right up to hit the dance floor and I was right there behind him. As soon as we started hamming it up while we danced away, Mike was clapping and cheering us on. "Dip her! Spin her!" We happily obliged, of course. Should I mention now that Mike had on dirty, rolled-up jeans and seemed cracked out of his mind? He was exactly what we went there hoping to find. He was actually more, but we'll get to that in a second. First, let's get back to the dancing and the part where Paul yells out, "Hey buddy, do you want to cut in?" Yes, yes he did. (I'll get you, Paul.) Thankfully, the song was almost over, so I didn't have to dance the night away with Mike. Of course, because I am still the Weirdo-Loser Magnet title holder, the first thing out of Mike's mouth when he grabbed me to dance was, "Is that your boyfriend?" Oh, Mike:
Do we look like we belong on Dancing With The Stars, or what? Actually, Mike looks quite nice in that picture as you can't see that most of the teeth on one side of his mouth are missing. After the song was over (and because he already had 5 shots, a beer and 2 vodka cokes in him), Paul invited Mike to grab an armchair and join us at our table. He sat right down and, as Barney Stinson might tell you, the night became legendary a few minutes later when Paul asked Mike what he did for work. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mike was a bona fide CARNY. If there is anything more awesome than that, I don't know what is. A carnie! We actually chose that bar because there was a carnival going on right down the street, but never dreamed that we would befriend, or better yet, have the chance to DANCE WITH A CARNY. We learned all kinds of things about the carny world, including where the workers stay when they're in town (they have shifty-sounding "rooms with bunk beds" in another city). Mike stays in his "house trailer" since his family OWNS the carnival and the reason he was at the bar instead of helping to take down some of the rides was because his father had just called him "an MRF" so he stormed off. He sat and regaled us with tales and creeped us out for about twenty minutes (and compared his tan with Kristin, who declared that she needed a full-body shower after his arm brushed against hers) until he just up and ran out the door with no warning. It turned out that he was just going out for a cigarette, and he waved to us from the window. A few minutes later, a car pulled up and he jumped in, never to be seen again. He didn't even say goodbye! Those carnies - they love you and leave you with no warning. [sniff]
After Mike took his leave, Paul and I turned to each other and declared the night to be a divetastic success and the perfect start of Bar Tuesdays. Oh, and the other new requirement of Bar Tuesdays? Taking a memento from each bar. Last night's prize? Paul's drink mug:
As he said, "My parents will be so proud of my stolen mug."
I can't wait for next week - hopefully there will be a new carnival in town....
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