elwood

So, last night I meet a friend at a local dive bar to babysit him while he attempts to drink away his sorrow after being dumped. The band sucks, so after shuffleboard and a couple of beers, we attempt to find a blues venue deep into the east side. (The east side being largely ethnic, for those of you not familiar with Austin. For such an allegedly liberal town, Austin is ridiculously segregated.)
This cat in my company is a pasty small town white guy who had been dating a super Jesusfreak virgin choir girl even though he is an atheist and supposedly gayseriously. So the guy obviously has a few issues to deal with, and he has never really been exposed to any culture other than west Texas white and brown folk. I really didnt think it would be any kind of an issue, because the guy is fairly laid back, and, though he resents everybody, he doesnt focus on any particular race, creed, or color. I figured we might be the only white faces in a crowd of black, but Im fairly comfortable with that. Having dreds halfway to my ass tends to lend me access to otherwise limited gatherings, so long as its away from corporate events and NASCAR crowds.
Skipping ahead a bit, we find the joint, and upon arrival, he is noticeably uncomfortable. We go in, and were stopped at the door by a young lady taking the entry cover. She asks if we were looking to catch a live band and tells us they only have live music Monday through Thursday. I can see that my friend is terrified, so I thank the girl and we split.
Now, given, this was one of those occasions where every conversation in the room fell silent, and everyone in the place turned to stare at the oddballs at the door. When we get to the truck, he tells me that he damn near shit his pants. I let him know how amazed I am over his fears as we head to the Mean Eyed Cat. (Our own little Johnny Cash theme bar that was an outstanding place at its conception, but has since been overrun with yuppies and the greek letter inclined, so anyone here in Austin reading this, gather your rowdiest friends and help me take back the bar.)
We have a couple of beers there, and my friend convinces me to go to Oil Can Harrys, which is Austins best known gay bar. I had never been there, but I wasnt too concerned, because I have been to a couple of gay bars in the past (though usually with a large, mixed group of friends), and another good friend of ours had been a bartender there years ago.
I find a parking spot right around the corner, giving me that Costanza confidence, and we head in. As we hang around, drink our drinks, and take in the surroundings, I honestly find myself disappointed that the majority of patrons were not at all flamboyant. As much as it sucks to stereotype, at the very least, I had hoped to get a few fashion tips. To my surprise, when my friend goes to the bathroom and leaves me to fend for myself, my slight discomfort grows to an irrational desire to jet. We leave, and Im left with the realization that I had just proven myself a complete hypocrite. Though I had not considered myself the least bit homophobic, once thrown into an unfamiliar situation, I was unbearably uncomfortable. So from there, we head back to the Cat, because I am an idiot and had forgotten to close my tab. Were there in time for last call, and I offered my apologies in regard to my judgment over my friends reaction to the previous ethnic experience and accepted that he is not a racist, he is simply unfamiliar (and therefore uncomfortable) with a situation as extreme as the one I had presented.
From there, we then went back to the east side to Sams BBQ on E.12th, which I highly recommend when youre tired of Magnolia and/or Kirby. So, I now sit in misery from 4 am BBQ more so than the excessive amount of booze.

R