The Primrose, February 2009
We could be in trouble. I have now started writing this month’s column, and I haven’t decided just what I want to write about. Well, that’s not entirely true. I want to write about my evening out last Saturday night. But I don’t know just what I want to say about the evening. Well that’s not entirely true either. I want to tell you about having fun with old friends and new friends, about good jokes and bad jokes, and about dancing solo and dancing with ardent (if very short) admirers. I guess what I really don’t know is how to tell you without being boring. Let’s see if I can manage. Let me know if you start to nod off.
First let me introduce you to the cast of characters. In the interest of fairness and even-handed journalism, this shall be done alphabetically. Let no one even think that the first person I name is any more guilty than the others (although “innocent” might not fit either). Without further ado, our first participant is Christine. An active member of CGS, many of you will remember her part in the recent Chicago Illusions play. Well, at least you will remember the dress that she (almost) wore along with her paddle.
Our second participant is Dawn. It was actually Dawn that initiated our little night out through the Transformations Forum. Most of you don’t know her as she usually remains hidden away disguised as a suburban male. So good is this disguise that no one has ever read her (or rather him). Thanks to Dawn there were some photos available to accompany this column. I forgot my camera at home, again!
Alphabetically, Greer would be next, but you already have the good/bad (choose one) fortune of knowing her, so we shall move on.
The final principal character was a visitor from England, whom I shall refer to as “L”. For fear of being exposed and having her passport revoked along with her garter belt, L asked that her identity not be exposed. Consequently I won’t mention her “other” name (Archibald Fotheringham) or where she lives (Oxford) or her profession (condom street-vendor) so that no one can connect the dots and find a cute bunny rabbit that points to our new friend L.
OK, everybody ready? Here we go! (I hope to hell this gets more exciting, I can even feel MY eyes getting heavy.)
Our adventure began at Hunter’s, as so many interesting adventures do. It was early yet, only 7:00 and therefore at least 3 hours away from anything exciting happening. I walked in the door a few minutes late (of course), and my companions for the evening had already gathered. I suspect they had been keeping the bartender busy because they had already progressed to talking about most embarrassing moments. Christine introduced me to L whom she had met at Transformations that very evening. Apparently the nicely styled hair, excellent makeup (courtesy of the ever fabulous Olivia) and English accent convinced Christine that L was not an axe murderer and might enjoy a night on the town. Personally I try to always ask point blank if someone I have just met is an axe murderer. If they say no, I can relax immediately without having to fret about it all evening.
Now, for those of you who know me, what would be your guess about what I will be wearing at any given time? Sorry, no prizes for the obvious. You all know that I love miniskirts and showing off my legs. For this night, the forecast was for temps in the low 20’s with scattered snow showers. Having not yet thoroughly warmed up after the significantly sub-zero temperatures of the days before, I decided to be rational and adult and wear a long skirt and boots. Sure, the chosen skirt had side slits to mid-thigh, but it was long! (I think it makes my butt look great, but we’ll let that go for the moment. Hey that means you, let go of that!)
So there I am, the queen (or at least a princess) of the miniskirt, wearing a long skirt, and I look at how my companions are dressed. Wouldn’t you know. Not a knee covered in the whole group. Life can be so unfair. Heck, just look at how heavy my beard is and you’ll know that’s true. After I pout and whimper for a few moments, we move to a table by the dance floor to chat and finish drinks. I was the designated driver, so I was only doing straight shots of Everclear. Actually that’s not true, I take my duties as designated driver very seriously. Ever since my license was permanently revoked for reckless endangerment, I try to be very careful.
After some initial chit-chat, taking of photos, visits to the ladies room (that’s the loo for our friend L), and getting bundled up against the cold, we all head out and pile into my car. Christine discovered that she lost her hat, so we all piled out, formed a femme skirmish line, and swept the parking lot for the errant chapeau. The bonnet was recovered and we were off to Boys Town.
Our first stop was Sidetrack. Since it was cold and snowy, I took advantage of the valet parking. Meaning of course that I paid the valet $10 (plus tip) to park my car in front of a fire hydrant nearby so that I’ll later get a $150 ticket in the mail. But hey, we didn’t’ have to walk far!
Inside Sidetrack, L was momentarily concerned because she had to show ID to get in. We convinced her that she could use her passport even though it is on the Homeland Security “Shoot on Sight” list. We figured that the chances of Sidetrack checking the list were slim. Nevertheless, the rest of us moved well away from her as we entered, just to be sure.
My previous visits to Sidetrack were limited to the main bar area (and of course the adjacent ladies room). Christine steered us quickly through this area and into the Crystal Bar. We found a delightful table in the corner and settled in with a round of drinks.
It was about this time that L began to regale us with jokes, both good and bad. As a side note, I must state that I have a very hard time hearing all that is said in a bar or club. So I usually smile and nod even though I have absolutely no idea what is being said. At some time in the past I got tired of repeatedly asking for repeats. The result is that I caught some setups and some punch lines, but they don’t necessarily go together. Besides which, English humor seems to always require knowing some obscure historical facts, like who Winston Churchill was or what Big Ben is (sounds kinky though). So, a lot of the jokes went over my head, or perhaps in a zigzag path around it. I do recall a number of references to some sort of relationship between farmers and their sheep, but that sounds unnatural so I probably misunderstood.
To demonstrate the universal appeal of some jokes, L told one in French saying that we would probably get it even though we couldn’t understand all the words. It is true that we understood several of the French words, and that we laughed politely at the end. But I’m sorry to say that we mono-lingual Americans didn’t really get it until L retold the joke in English. Unfortunately, I can’t share it with you here as it involves the improper use of a policeman’s baton. Mercy!
Having never explored Sidetrack, I took Dawn in tow and we looked around. Up the stairs in back they have a delightful little rooftop bar which includes open air seating. We couldn’t get into the outdoor seating that night as all of the chairs and benches were occupied by snow. Just downstairs is a hideaway bar with pool tables and such. We then circled back around through the main bar and back to the Crystal Bar.
A little later, I took the same tour with Christine. There hadn’t been any significant changes in architecture in the preceding few minutes, but we did encounter a fun drunk guy on our circuit. He was apparently rather short, but he stood on a step and was able to look both of us in the eye. It seems that he was upset because he had been criticized for his attire. He was wearing a black t-shirt that said “NYC” on it along with a black leather jacket. I thought he looked fine, but apparently it wasn’t appropriate Chicago club wear. I could have understood if he wasn’t wearing pants, but fortunately a different set of rules apply to us.
By the time we returned to our table, my steel trap mind identified the key problem with Sidetrack, no dance floor! That means it was time to bundle up and cross the street to Roscoe’s!
To digress for just a moment . . . Let me say how very fun and exciting it is to cross a busy urban street when there is a bit of accumulated snow and ice and you’re wearing heels. Fortunately there was a traffic light so we were able to cross cautiously and safely.
Having reached Roscoe’s, we paused in the front area to get a round of drinks. Then I led off to the back where I knew the dance floor sat in dark, loud splendor. Surprise! We found the dance area to be completely boarded up. Horrors! Entering a small (and empty) bar area adjacent, I queried the bartender about this unacceptable situation. He nicely explained that they were doing some remodeling. Gak!
We settled into a table in the little empty bar area and continued with chatting, joking and drinking (except for me of course, I had gotten tired of the effort involved in shots and switched to an IV). Before I was aware of what was happening, Dawn and Christine moved to an open area of the floor and began dancing. Right there in the aisle! I was shocked! I was appalled! I was soon on my feet to wiggle my behind too! L joined in too and we just shook our booties until we were all exhausted (about 2 minutes I think).
As the evening progressed, some other groups discovered our little hideaway. As the hour was growing later (it was after my bedtime for goodness sakes), I suggested we return to Hunter’s (1) where everyone else’s cars were parked, and (2) where there was a known dance floor that would by now be in full action. So we once again bundled up, crossed the street, retrieved the car from the valet (no apparent damage from street racing), and headed back to Hunter’s.
Hunter’s was indeed now in full swing. We deftly bypassed the cover charge table with the rationale that we were there earlier, and we made our way to the pool room and a quick warm up by the fire (a very nice touch on these cold nights, especially when wearing a mini). Unfortunately, our friend Dawn announced that it was time for her to head home. Saddened by her departure, but mindful of our responsibilities, Christine, L and I headed for the dance floor.
The dance floor was busy, although not packed shoulder-to-shoulder as it is at times. We dove in and worked on our moves. Christine’s were apparently working. After we had been dancing for a few minutes, I saw that she had attracted a dance partner. It would be unfair to say that he was short. After all, he was tall enough so that his eyes could remain on Christine’s chest while they danced. I won’t even contemplate what else might have been occurring in the dark of the dance floor. When quizzed about it later, Christine would only smile and giggle. You go girl!
To bring the evening to a close, I drove L back to her hotel by the airport. Now the poor deluded dear had been prancing around Chicago in a lovely frock, shaking her tail, and generally having a wild, girly time all evening, but she was concerned that the desk clerk at the hotel would . . . what? I’m not sure, but L saw it as potential devastation. So the plan was to deliver her to the back door of the hotel so she could make a clandestine entry and sneak up the back stairs unnoticed. Of course as all such plans do, this one went awry when we found the back door locked. Ah well, our L pulled herself together (the tears were a bit much) and bravely headed for the front door under the watchful eye of the desk clerk. As I sped away from the scene, the first police car arrived, and I could see L being spread-eagled against a wall and frisked by a security man. I think L was smiling.
*****
New Years Resolution Watch – How am I doing on my resolutions?
Go on a diet/lose weight – I actually kicked off a high-protein, low-carb diet after the new year, and I have been sticking to it (surprise, surprise). I dropped the “holiday” weight quickly, and I’m now working on the 15 pounds that took me years to accumulate.
Always take purse out of car before locking it – So far, so good. Although I did have a momentary panic at Hunters when I thought my purse walked away all by itself (or with help). But no, I was just having another senior moment.
Go to new places while dressed – No movement on this one yet. Unfortunately I didn’t get an invite to any of the inaugural balls.
Improve femme voice – No movement here either. Scared 3 children and a small puppy when I said hello.
Organize closet/drawers – Another one with no movement. If I can’t just put my male clothes in a duffle bag, maybe I should buy a house with more closets.
Win a large lottery – No luck so far. Of course I would probably improve my odds if I bought a ticket.
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.
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