Whimsically Named Bars and Why They're Worth Visiting

I went back to the town where I graduated high school last night to see an old pal and her hubby. We decided to go out in the town where we grew up (or rather, where she grew up. I simply popped in for two years, snagged a diploma, and evaporated.) For those who wonder, I wrote briefly about this town last year. It's a . . . unique place.

The night wore on, as Jimmy Stewart enjoys saying, and I'll spare the gory details of our perambulations around the wooded glades and strip malls, until we ended up at a whimsically-named pub in town, shooting pool. I play abysmally unless I'm practicing, so I basically dragged my pal down while her husband cleaned our clocks. On the tvs downstairs were baseball games and the film Scary Movie. The pool hall area was all dudes except me, my friend, and the waitress. The dudes were nearly all married men gone to seed. You know who I mean. (I almost put a link here to a 10th High School Reunion picture I found online, but that seems . . . cruel.)

This is not us.

The scene in Scary Movie came on where the two women kiss. It's supposed to be a gross-out fest, there's a lot of tongue, a lot of saliva, and some mess when they finally part. When this scene came on, the entire bar--I'd say about 20 guys, dropped everything they were doing to watch. They laughed like hyenas--that nervous laugh that gets louder and louder in the company of other brayers. It's a lengthy scene, so this nervous man laugh went on for a while. Then the scene ended, the fellows all slapped backs and said things like "dude!" or "Wow!" or "Good lord!"

Also not us

Then, as one, they all turned to me and my friend. Crickets. A tumbleweed rolls by. I say to my friend out of the corner of my mouth, "we could pay off our student loans if we work this right." I mean, we're both attractive, both blondes, although she's more playboy bunnyesque than I am . . . And then the hubby--who is an attractive married man--walks between us, carrying a pool cue.

And . . . scene.