Around here there seem to be a ton of "associations" (a.k.a. private drinking clubs). Some of them have the name "democratic" or "republican" or "athletic" in their names but there is nothing political or athletic about any of these associations. You pay $10 a year to be a member (some clubs are more exclusive than others so you might be wait-listed) and you get a key to the front door. This key unlocks the fascinating world of 75-cent draft beers, half-pound hamburgers for $2, and all the free entertainment your brain can can absorb. People can smoke here, play bingo, poker, and bad music on the jukebox. For some it's their windowless, wood-paneled, smoky, loud second home.
Last nite we met some friends at "the republican club". (Where I bought 3 bottles of beer, two sodas and left a tip for less than five dollars - jealous?) After the "dinner hour" our friends left and we stayed to continue our buzz while the "after-dinner crowd" of mostly 20-something boys with their phones attached to their ears parade into the place to play pool and 50Cent or Sublime on the jukebox.
D. is not salty, as he is enjoying his cigar and I'm off playing pinball. The club is fully decked out with lots of lightstrings on every available space, paper puffy decorations hanging from the ceiling, and fake snow sprayed on the big mirror behind the bar. When I run out of quarters, I return to our table, and D. is talking to one of these young men. I sat down, and the boy wraps up their conversation, looks at me and says hey, and leaves. Along with his sporty fashion and bad doo-rag, I notice his very sculpted, waxed brows. Ah, the young metrosexuals. At the republican club?
D. said the conversation went something like this:
Boy (with his posse, looks over at D. sitting alone, leaves posse and sits down): Hey, what's up?! How's Christmas going for you?
D: Alright. And you?
Boy: Ah, I'm feeling really philosophical, you know? {blah blah blabiddy blah} I'm studying psychology in college.
D: Oh yeah? I did that.
Boy: So what do you do now?
D: I work in the transportation field.
Boy: Oh, can I have your card, because I may need to transport something....
Then I came back to the table and the boy was putting the card in his pocket - looked at me with that oddly sculpted brow and rejoined his clatch of buddies.
D. just kept puffing on his stogie. I was, like, "Yo, that kid was totally hitting on you." D. was like, "yeah that's funny." like totally blase about the whole thing. I said, "no, really, I think he was disappointed that I'm here. I think he liked you!" (like we're in the high school cafeteria or something). D. shrugged and said, "what's not to like?" I put my head (spinning from Rolling Rock) in my hands and thought about not only the gaying shift in American culture but also in my husband's very welcome, recently found tolerance - what is happening to the republican club??!
maybe, without our receiving a memo or anything, "republican" now means "gays welcome".
yeah. take that, washington.
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