Tales From The Gay Bar

Posted: August 15, 2013 in TFTGB
Tags: , , ,

Here is the very first Tale From The Gay Bar, I hope you enjoy!

A word of warning: ACHTUNG!

And now a few more: If you are in a hurry, your mom has asked you twice already to mow the lawn, or you are on the toilet thinking “just this little story and then I’ll get back to work”, I urge you to save this for later, it is quite long.

Oh and also if you are at any point offended by incorrect use of gay, lesbian, bi, transgender, straight, lgbt or anything else for that matter, I apologize in advance. I am pretty liberal when it comes to the use of these words, that does not mean I don’t know how other people feel about this.

Now then, let’s get to it! I work at a gay bar. The only gay bar in fact in a 70 km radius, that’s 43.5 miles for the Americans and 37.8 nautical miles for the sailors.

This is a pretty small bar, I’d say you could fit about 60 people in there, but there would be some sore toes and bruised elbows in the morning. Because the bar is so small and it’s a long way to the next gay bar, it was decided that we would host big parties every month at a separate location.

In 2008 I started working at the bar. I started out as a lowly bartender, I then begun to bartend at the parties, soon I became a shift manager both at the bar and parties, then on to further fame as a manager of the bar and in the end I moved on to being in charge of planning and hosting the parties.

It was a swift climb through the ranks and I would be lying if I said I didn’t leave some sore souls in my wake. However I was never in it for the power, I just worked hard and people recognized that.

Now that my life story is done, I would like to tell you about some of the people that come to the bar. Some regulars, and just some general types of people.

The Regulars:

note: I call our regulars by their standard orders. I am terrible with names and faces, so describing someone to a coworker can be difficult. Thus simply stating “you know, coke in a glass with lime was in here earlier asking for you” is much easier.

Pilsner and a Glass: This is a 60 year old, slightly overweight guy trolling for young meat. And when I say young, I mean young! He will sniff out any guy who’s hardly told ma and pa about his new found love of sausage yet, and viciously attack with offers of drinks and a ride home.

There are plenty of these kind of guys around, but what makes this specimen interesting is, he never scores. I have worked at that bar for five years. I have seen even the most hopeless cases get lucky once in a while, but Pilsner and a glass? Never!

You would think he would try for something else sometime, but no, he is determined. Poor sod.

Double Scotch and Coke: This guy never gets anything else, never! We have a few of those people, those who will get the same thing every time. Good on them, they know what they like. But this guy, he messes with one of my pet peeves.

You see I can’t stand it when people call Jack Daniels scotch. Why? Because it’s wrong, that’s why! You know why it’s called a scotch? BECAUSE IT’S FROM SCOTLAND! Where is Jack Daniels from? Tennessee! Is Tennessee in Scotland? NO! So don’t call it a scotch!

But this guy INSISTS on saying “a double scotch and coke”. And every time I ask him “Jack Daniels?” and he replies “yes”. I have tried to explain, kindly, jokingly, even slightly annoyed, but it doesn’t work.

So one day, when he wasn’t looking, I made his drink with actual scotch and he actually did a spit-take! I have never seen anyone else do that, ever. But he did it and he looked at me with disbelief and tears in his eyes and choked out “This coke’s gone bad!”. Sigh…

That was a couple of regulars, I have many more if you would like to hear about them.

Now for the types. I would very much like to tell you about a specific type of people. The straight guys, or the lads.

The straight guys are a group of 3-6 guys out on the town. They’re at the sports bar around the corner and have already had a few rounds. As they are sitting there talking up their egos by counting just how many girls they’ve banged this past week, one of them speaks up

Lad#1: “You know what we should do? You fucking know what we should do? You know that fag place around the corner? yeah? We should go there and scare some queers!”
Lad#2: “Fuck yeah! Let’s bash some stinking fags!”
Lad#3: “Let’s do this!”

So they drink up and, egging each other on, almost run out of the sports bar. They walk briskly towards the corner, but the minute they round it, they slow down. They begin to think, individually, that maybe this isn’t such a good idea. But they can’t let their mates know, so they keep on walking.

In the end they make it to the door, and one of them pushes out his chest and goes for the handle. They walk in, looking around shyly.

They have entered a gay bar, this is unknown territory and must be surveyed carefully. “Oh god I hope no one sees me in here” thinks one, another “Oh god I hope no one hits on me” and maybe the third lad thinks to himself “That guy’s kinda cute”.

When they have entered the bar there are, in my experience, three possible outcomes:

1: They are aggressive and antagonizing, may even end up throwing a punch before they are kicked out.

2: They are aggressive and antagonizing, until one of them spots the big bowl of free condoms. They each grab a handful and leave quickly, looking both ways to see no one saw them.

3: My personal favorite. They are a bit uncomfortable, but one of them declares “This seems like a nice place” and buys a round for his mates. They usually sit at the bar and you get a good talk. They may even come back once in a while just because they like the atmosphere.

What do you think? Would you visit my bar?

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