the veiled sibyl

I have heard and said more inanities, since you took me in tow, than in all the rest of my life.

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Monday, April 24, 2006

Recollections of a Conversation

Charlie's. The oldest gay bar in Austin. I can't decide if I like this place or not. A mixed clientele - beautifully adolescent twinks, hot go-go boys in their skivvies, regular joes, and skeevy old farts - your basic gay bar scene.

Last time, H was talking to one of the Skeevies - some drunken fart he'd helped into a cab back when he was working the door at Oilslick's. OldFart was telling us how he "throws money around all these places all the time" and how he'd "put in a good word" to the manager/owner/whatever about Good Samaritan H, who he called a "good man". Mmm Hmm.

H was doing his thing, which is workin' it - and OldFart was just having a great old time talking to Beauty Boy. Meanwhile OldFart was also being hustled by a deaf fellow - who probably wasn't deaf and possibly wasn't even gay, but just wanted to partake of the free drinks OldFart was supplying. (YHA - in the role of "The Girlfriend" and H enjoyed a vodka tonic and a Jack and Coke, respectively, courtesy of OldFart.) OldFart was also trying to hustle the bartender - a youngun' with bleached spikes and dimples. (What time do you get off work, sweet thing? In an hour. We should go get a steak, me and you. A steak? At ten at night?)

OldFart again mentioned putting in a good word for H (who, by the way, was using his gaybar/drugdealer alias "He Spent" of course...) H replied by saying "I thank you sir, I will tell you, I do drink, but I never use drugs and I try to stay out of trouble. YHA should have gotten a fucking ACADEMY AWARD at that point, my friends. I did NOT laugh uncontrollably. I did NOT roll my eyes so far back into my head as to be irretrievable. I did NOT shotgun vodka and tonic out my nose. Oh no, I just smiled sweetly, like a good girlfriend would, and nodded my pretty little (reeling) head.

Then for some reason, OldFart started getting nervous. He told H that he couldn't give him a phone number, and that he couldn't call for "certain reasons". See he was affiliated with - or rather, involved with - or no - yes, affiliated - mind you, HE WAS NOT A COP - affiliated with someth... well, he couldn't say. But he did stress again that he WAS NOT A COP. Then he made us promise that we wouldn't tell anyone we'd seen him there - in the gay bar. In one of the many gay bars that he "throw(s) money all around... all the time" as he had previously mentioned. The reason? You see, dear OldFart just liked coming to gay bars to "make friends" - nothing else, because "You see, I'm STRAIGHT." H replied "Hey, we're all straight in here." Something clicked in OF's brain - ('we're all straight', 'this is my girlfriend') and with a horrified look, he implored, "Are you straight? Because, well, actually, I'm BI. Are... you Bi?"

So yeah. That's Charlie's...




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