You walk into a crowded bar and if it weren't for the circle of friends sitting way over in the corner you'd take one look around and decide to go down the road a bit.
Strange isn't even the word for it but I got to see some buds I haven't seen for awhile. Ran into one dude his wife has cancer, he grew weary of being turned down by everyone in Texas so moved to OK where they started treating her while he was still getting rejection notices from Texas. She's in remission now as we speak where as in Texas the most the doctors were doing was telling them she had a year to live......maybe. In this grand state of Texas if you don't have money and plenty of it or insurance you don't get treatment unless you fit the proper profiles.
Another dude was putting in his best efforts to have some warm company for the late night with this cute young one but after a period of watching the poor guy do his damnest he walked back over muttering to himself.....*She called me Mister* LRH
There was more beasties in one place than I've seen in sometime. They were moving and shaking to the music where it came close to being dangerous making your way to the bathroom. If you've ever been hit by a 40 pound tit then you know what I'm talking about.
Another corner held the $30,000 clone crowd with leather from head to toe men and women. Patches, buttons, pins and a host of other dodads that you'll see under counters here and there and wonder just who in their right mind would purchase. T-shirts that attempt to blind you making the bands lame ass try at a light show pale in comparison. They come marching in strutting, noses in the air after all they have more money in paint than most my friends have in their entire scoots. They sit there and you catch them casting eyes at your table wanting to join but they have been rebuffed too many times and often not too nicely.
Another corner has the local sheriff, that has given many a hard time on the roads between here and Baycity. She has the class of a snake and it depends on who you took baths with as a kid as to how you're treated if this bitch decides it's your turn for her special treatments. She sits getting wasted on beer and trolling for a young lady to warm her late night.
Then there's the punks, punks in the sense of punks, as a lifestyle. More metal in most of their faces then spokes in a 16 inch rear. They're mostly cool if not somewhat defensive, used to having rude remarks and the stray punch cast their way. They're like abused dogs that cringe when you walk past them, waiting for the remark or the punch to come but still with enough backbone they hold their ground. I like punks, street people whatever you want to call them in your part of the world. They're doing their own thing and fuck you if you don't like it. It's an attitude I can understand and respect.
Then there was the dinner plate crowd. The ones with their Wranglers up to their rib cage and expecting dinner to be served why else would they march in with their leather dusters and their plate fastened to their belt, I guess so if they get drunk they won't forget to take it home. Men and women both, skin tight jeans and bizarre, strange brightly colored shirts. Their women like to dance in strange patterns, forming a line and copying one another in movements while the men drink from the bottles they brought in until they're shit faced enough to start giving the evil eye to the bunch in the corner where I sit. Rednecks and bikers have a sort of ongoing truce that is broken at the mere whisper of an insult or the always present lady that loves to see fights who will cozy up to some poor unsuspecting fool and make sure her man see this poor sap grabbing her ass as he walks in the door, then it's on, the crowd rushes the door and the battle is played out. Most of the graybeards just sit at their chairs, having been there too many times in youth to bother watching the young ones do their parking lot dance.
I guess I ramble, all it all it was a good night with a crowd that I almost turned my back on.