I went to a bar the other night. Actually, it’s a live music venue that is rumoured to be relocating and there are tables and you can eat there. But there is a bar and they serve beer, so it’s a bar. Oh yeah, and I went with Justine and some of her friends.
This bar was filled with old people. Except for the 16 year old touching his equally young girlfriends breasts all the time, I was probably the youngest person there. But that’s okay, because I like older people. There is nothing wrong with being over 30, in fact, I’m looking forward to it.
This bar was also packed and there was no where to sit, so we stood at the bar for a while. But after a while Justine and I headed to the smoking section which appeared to be deserted. I sat down on an empty couch and immediately noticed the uptight woman glaring at us.
“You can’t smoke here.” She said and then I noticed that the other end of the room was packed with smokers. Although I couldn’t really see them through the concentrated smoke.
“I’m sorry, what now?” I asked her.
“You can’t smoke here.” She said and I noticed she had membrane like wings and really long, sharp teeth.
“But this is the smoking section.” One of us said this. I can’t remember who. The dragon lady was scary.
“I know, but you can’t smoke here.”
This was one of those moments where Justine and I communicated telepathically. Our conversations went like this:
“What a bitch!”
“Let’s go somewhere else before she eats us.”
Later that night she camouflaged herself in the crowd and it was safe to sit on the couches in the smoking section. This was the only place we could loiter and catch a glimpse of the band. It was also right by the secret room where the band hang out with their groupies. And since we were with a serious fan, this was considered a prime location.
At one point we wanted a closer look and moved towards the stage. We were once more shouted at by some grumpy old woman and just went back to the couches. From there the view was not always pleasant. I saw a man give head to his kebab and then try and feed it to his wife. She didn’t want it and I don’t blame her.
So in case anyone hasn’t noticed this yet, Justine and I are tight. We are so tight that we go to the bathroom together, but not so close that we share a stall. Because when you really think about it, going to the bathroom with someone watching is strange (and we agree on this, thank god). Guys have rules for this at the urinal, and I have no idea how it works in the Land of Women, because it’s a province I’m just going to skip entirely.
However many women don’t. Some women even take boys with them into the stalls. So when the door opened and a man came out, I was confused, and then felt like high-fiving him and his lady friend. She said they were just talking, but come on – that’s what telephones are made for, right?
Then Justine cried out with pain. Another woman was trying to style her hair with perfume, missed and caught Justine in the face. This somehow led to a conversation. So there we were, a pilot (she flies 747’s or soemthing), the casino woman (she said ‘Vegas’ a lot), the cougar (the one with the guy in the stall, well she was 40 and he was 27 – high five, again), Justine and me, talking about aging and how sex really does get better as you age.
And then back to the bar, where Justine said something about how all she could smell was the perfume that had nearly blinded her. So I sniffed her face to see if it was that bad.
“Are you two kissing?” asked a male voice behind us.
“No, I’m smelling her.” I explained, and it struck me that that is actually a strange thing to do.
“It looks like you were kissing. Guys love it when girls kiss.” He said.
It was taking forever to get drinks, so we were forced to make small talk with the short man who had decided we were kissing. I think he was trying to be really smooth, because as he left he said something along the lines of “Well, the last time I had a threesome…”
Who knows how that sentence ended, because I was shocked that he had said that, and I may have been laughing. I was laughing really hard on the inside, that I know. Shame, it’s cute when men cruise really hard. It’s even more cute when they think they can pull off a threesome.
I later went back to ask the guy something and met his friend. Now I regret not asking them for a threesome, you know, turn the tables just to see what would happen.
No one believes this story. Justine’s friends also thought we were kissing. When we told them why we had been away for so long they weren’t entirely convinced. But I promise I don’t make this stuff up, there really was an incident with perfume, a pilot, a casino woman, a cougar and a short, cocky man.