Ever wonder if you are in a gay bar? That was the story of the evening yesturday. The bar was pretty normal looking, had a packman arcade game cocktail table (you know, the kind they had in Pizza Hut when you were a kid), cheap drinks, and the bartender was smoking a joint outside. Sounded pretty straight to me so I didn't pay any mind. Powers raised the question first. I wondered why he asked. He first noted two of the ugliest drag queens I have ever seen sitting on bar stools 2 feet in front of me. Somehow in a bar of 6 people I had not noticed the Steven Tyler looking drag queen in front of me. Next to them were two other "gents" chatting away about mascara. The bartender who seemed pretty striaght pre joint, was now floating around behind the bar like Brian Boitano (male ice skater, thanks Mrs. Horne for making me watch this ice skating homoetroticism crap when I was a kid. It finally paid off!). Jersey Carl showed up next and he too questioned my bar choice. At this point I was starting to panic, how the hell could I not have picked up on this. Ok so what is the bar's name? Lucky Stiffs. Shit. Then the final piece of the puzzle presented itself. Shit. The renound emo-balladeers know as Dream Academy luckily made a song called "Dream Weaver" just for this moment. The ballots are in, I had been drinking in a gay bar for 2 striaght nights, felt totally comfortable, and never noticed anything was up. This was just the shot my confidence needed. So now I am the gay bar guy. First thing powers tells me today, WHOW what was with that gay bar. This one is probably gonna stick with me. Shit. This story sucks. Not only did I go to this shit bar and have to deal with it, now I have to face the fact that this story in of itself was shit. Well you read it I guess. I am going to go medicate myself.
