You know the thing I love about gay bars? They never change. I mean: Never. I stopped going to them c. 1980 or so, and in the few times I’ve been back since then, it’s like visiting my youth preserved in amber. The patrons have more tattoos now, there’s now something called Apple Pucker schnapps available behind the bar, but otherwise? Timeless.
Last night, the NN.C roadshow stopped in Chicago, to visit one of our most loyal and supportive readers, Alex, seen above at an early stop in the evening, holding a coaster for the house brew. Snicker all you want — I had one, and I’m here to tell you if it weren’t for the name, this ale would be somewhere around the bottom of the sales charts.
Anyway, after dinner and a nap, we went back out, to Big Chick’s, a north-side bar for gentlemen and the understanding ladies who love them. We walk in, and what are they playing? Don’t even guess: Thelma Houston, “Don’t Leave Me This Way.” It’s like they picked the needle up off the record as I walked out the door 20-plus years ago, and dropped the laser back on the CD when I walked back in: “Nance’s here! Put on the oldies mix.”
The rest of the evening: Not a blur, exactly — I can’t act like that anymore. But I stayed out clear past midnight! It had to be memorable!
ashley said on May 1, 2004 at 12:53 pm
In Chicago, and you didn’t even call.
I’m shattered. Sha-doo-be. Shattered. Shattered.
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Michael G said on May 5, 2004 at 8:43 am
That’s OK, Ashley. She didn’t call me either.
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