Mole Goes To A Gay Bar

Ok, so the posts have been sparse lately but I've been busy. I've officially added a new member to my Clan in P, and basically went to Mexico to call a fast pitch softball 16u National Championship tournament; which by the way, I got the plate assignment in the championship game. Anyway, I've been sitting on an experience for nearly a year now that I had with Buddy 1 from the Grape Snow Cones entry. Long story short, I went to a gay bar.

It all started on a cool weekend back in November. I was in McKinney Texas calling a college showcase tournament. These are huge tournaments in which teams from all over the Nation come in and play meaningless games so that scouting agencies and coaches have a chance to see a bunch of players in one setting. I worked with guys that call Big 12, hell, there was even a guy there that worked the plate in the championship game of the World Cup of Softball last month, so it was a cool environment. After the Saturday games were over two other umpires and I were looking for a place to drink. Unfortunately the bar scene in McKinney isn't exactly "hapnin" so everyone went home. For me though, home was not an option, because I was on a mission to drink malted hops, and I'll be damned if I wasn't. So, I start driving toward downtown stinking like asparagus and febreze. I call up Buddy 1 who will be known hence forth as The Devil:

TD: Mole! My friends suck.
M: What?
TD: Mole, I'm stuck at a party with some old chick, and these people are dinking wine while a group of fags are in the corner playing foosball.

There aren't too many times in my life that I'm speechless, but I was at a loss of words while my imagination tried to conjure this image.

TD: Dude, I've got to get out of here and my friends either won't answer the phone, or they're too stoned to come get me.
M: Don't worry man; I'm heading your way.
TD: Really?
M: Yeah man, I'm driving down 75, butt naked, but I'll be there in 20 clothed. (You get good at changing clothes in the car when you're an official)
TD: Sweet, I'm off Greenville Ave.
M: Alright, I'll call when I exit Mockingbird, so have someone reasonably sober close to give me directions.

When I finally pull up, TD meets me on the sidewalk and ushers me into another world it seems. I walk up on a scene of some chick hanging upside down from the back porch rafters by her knees, her big fake cans ready to pop out, a group of pseudo intellectuals dressed in clothes I can only assume cost more than the gross national product of Haiti. Not only that, they're talking about such enriching topics like the new Herbie Movie and if the more curvy Lohan, is better looking that coked out version, and of course, a group of gay men in the corner of the yard playing foosball. Me, I'm in flips flops, Levis, a white T-Shirt and my new Budweiser red camo hat bought at the Nextel Cup race from the previous weekend. Thankfully, these people offer me a beer. While I'm polishing it off, I find the "wearing the tight shirt but I have a gut” guy showing off his new iPod as if he's the cave man in 2001: A Space Odyssey discovering a bone can be used as blunt object of destruction. Damn, I wish he would have grunted. Anyway, I'm introduced to everyone, brave their witty conversation, and generally try to be as contradictory and snide as possible, all while sporting an extra thick east Texas accent. The thing about THESE Dallas types is their blatant lack of respect for anyone that lives within a few miles of a sale barn. They look at me and see bumpkin, I look at them and see my verbal fist crushing their skull.

After TD and I mange to piss of the straight people and drink the rest of their beer, it's time to boogie to a bar. As we're walking out the old rafter chick comes running. We say we’re off to a bar, but she has a friend John that is about to meet her, and he wants us to come with him. John pulls up and I'm introduced:

TD: Mole, this is John, he's a fag.

Hi John.
John explains that we're going to this bar called S4, so have Julie follow him. He leaves and TD explains to me that S4 is a gay bar. Now, I'm not as apprehensive to this idea as say, Joe Lieberman being used as target practice for Mel Gibson’s personal gun range, but the idea of going to a gay bar is not that appealing. However, since neither of us are in any shape to drive, and I want more alcohol, I decide “it'll be alright, I'll just chill on a bar stool and drink a beer, right”? This is not the case however. We wind up in the Oak Lawn district of Dallas, the gay district of course, and follow John to the doors. It seems like it takes 15 minutes to get in, and the people in line are crazy, but not over effeminate. I'm feeling comfortable, *it'll be ok Mole*. As I near the doors to this place, the thump of trashy techno gets louder, the voices get more high-pitches, and the "product" necessary to make hair do the things I saw would make Günter & The Sunshine Girls sick.

We pay to get in and, for me; I'm bearing witness to something that is like a cross between the club parts of the movie 54, and the orgy scene in Summer of Sam. Seriously, I felt like Ricky Bobby when he said, “I’m gettin' kinda dizzy....from all the...gayness." It was weird, drinks were in order, and since the buzz was wearing off from the wait in line, they were needed FAST. So, as John goes off to play, Julie, TD, and I go upstairs to the less crowded bar. So if being downstairs was like being in 70's sex hell, upstairs was.......was.......was, something that will be saved for later, I'm sick of writing now.