We came late and they charged us a cover. The corner bar. We had been there a zillion times before and never been charged a cover. They were having a party. A celebration. They had a catered spread (we just left the little restaurant down the street, feasting on cheap appetizers) and they had goodie bags and were touting games and prizes. “Are you kidding me?” I just wanna rock and roll.
We sat through the first set, lullabyes , and I started to get antsy. My Mother played this music to me in the womb, and while it’s comforting, I am being a rebel tonight and just paid a $10.00 cover to park it in a bar filled with couples on date night. I am not on a date. I start fidgeting. The band takes a break and I grab the drummer and whisper two words ….mouthing them close enough for him to feel my lips on his cheek, and hopefully understand I am begging…. Rolling Stones!
I waited. They belted out The Platter’s “Only You” and couples swooned and crooned on the dance floor. Chey and I took our miniature Heath bars (from the goodie bags) and played craps against the wall….We cheered and gambled and ordered another round…..on the gentleman next to us....
Dute dute da....I heard the first three notes and went flying. Chey behind me. We jumped , and stomped, and flung our hair like Jumping Jack Flash on Fire. It felt good. “I can’t get no SAT-IS-FAC-TION!” A few couples dribbled onto the dance floor, into our space, but we didn’t leave them elbow room. They already had their turn. This was a revolution. “We’re mad as hell, and not gonna take it anymore”…..
The music ended and a parade of regulars waded past our barstools. “Did you break up with your boyfriend?” Arrrrrgggghhhhh! "You girls need a beer?" "Yes, thank you"
At 11:00 they had a twist contest. “Are you kidding me?”
At midnight, a hoola hoop contest. The prize: A $25.00 bartab.
I grabbed Chey by the arm and twisted her just-as-thin-as-mine skin. “Pretend we’re at Jai-Lai….we have to minimize our losses” They handed us florescent hoops, and I traveled back in time. Grin and bear it , baby girl. Shake it like a hoola-hoop.
Between the break-up beers and the hula-hoop, we came out ahead...