Following my disgraceful play in today’s lunchtime freeroll (winnings: $0) I decided
it was time to take a break from the computer screen and relax. I subsequently phoned a friend and we decided to meet up for
a few drinks. The wife was safely tucked away at work so I thought I’d be perfectly safe having a couple of cold ones
and bitching about my bad beats to a sympathetic listener.
So far this sounds a thoroughly reasonable and civilised way to spend an afternoon.
We found a nice looking pub, ordered our drinks and weaved our way through the customers to
find a seat.
The conversation ebbed and flowed easily and the volume of our voices increased in direct proportion
to the amount of alcohol we consumed. It was only when we switched from beer to vodka that I realised something wasn’t
quite as it should be.
There were hardly any women in the place; the reason for which was becoming very obvious.
We’d inadvertently wandered into a gay bar.
Now, I’m not homophobic in any way, the wife and I have some wonderful gay and lesbian
friends. Indeed, I like to consider myself liberal and laid back in all aspects of life but we’d made a huge error…and
we were making things worse.
Consider the terminology used by a couple of semi-drunk poker players. In a card room it’s
perfectly acceptable to say things like “…I pushed it all in”, “…he had a big pair in his pocket”,
and “…I got fucked up the river”, but in that environment it was very ill advised.
And it didn’t get any better.
When Dave enthusiastically explained that he “…really wanted to see a couple of
Queens flopped on the table” the trouble really started.
I don’t know if everyone was drawing lots, but all of a sudden we were the centres of
attention as two gentlemen came dancing over and sat next to us.
Dave quickly decided he didn’t need to use the lavatory after all (whispering to me that
he’d rather shit himself and have his arse cleaned with an industrial hose later in the week) and looked at me like
he’d found a dead hamster in his drink.
Following an offer from one of our new colleagues that I would have to be an acrobat to comply
with, I politely but assertively explained the situation and apologised for any misunderstanding. I even opened my wallet
to show him a photo of the wife as evidence of my heterosexual standing. Well, on the second attempt I did; the first one
I plucked out showed the pair of us with the mother-in-law that was briefly met with an accusation of bestiality but I soon
smoothed that one over.
Although the barman still insisted on calling Dave “Sweetie” they bought us a drink
to show there were no hard feelings and we stayed for another half an hour before staggering out to find a taxi.
It turned out be quite
a nice afternoon although I found it quite difficult to appear completely sober when I finally got home. I’m pretty
sure I got away with it even though the occasional vodka propelled belch might have given me away. I can always console myself
with the fact there are about 30 million guys in this country and the wife chose me. She’s only got herself to blame.
I realise I should be reporting on the poker activities but as I got knocked out early in both
the evening and midnight tournaments there’s very little that would interest you. I’ll try to think of a way to
embellish it before tomorrow.
So, other than a recommendation to steer clear of donkeys, I can only offer one piece of advice.
If you find ever yourselves in a similar predicament and you have to squeeze past someone sat at the bar, for God’s
sake don’t ask if you can push their stool in.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0.
