Saturday Night Fever, Part I

Despite significant reservations, I headed out to northern Virginia on Saturday night to see my favorite local band, Gonzo's Nose,1/ play. They seldom make it into D.C. proper, so I really suppose I have no choice but to see them in the commonwealth, much as I hate to venture into a state that seems to loathe my very existence as a gay man.

My girlfriends Linda and Leslie came out too, despite the pouring rain. I had turned them on to GN earlier. Despite the fact that I do love GN's music (this weekend was a "warmup to 80s night," which effectively made it an 80s night of its own, and I am absolute sucker for 80s music), I know I'd rather be there with friends than just listening to them on my own. Or maybe it's just because being a straight bar alone weirds me out. Then again, being in a gay bar alone weirds me out too. But then not as much.

At one point, Linda was talking behind me to some random guy. Actually, they appear to have known each other before that night, but I hadn't ever met him, so I have no idea who he was, so I will continue calling him Random Guy. She was standing to my right and slightly behind me, holding her cup of beer.2/ When GN launched into "Just Like a Dream," (Show me show me show me how you do that trick...), I (as is my wont) started singing along and dancing like a fool. And by "dancing like a fool," I do in fact mean I looked like a frigging idiot. But then I look like a frigging idiot when I'm not dancing too. Oh well. Also, by "dancing like a fool," I mean I decided I would raise my right arm, because that's part of my little dance routine. (Told you I dance like a fool.)

So I lifted my right arm, only to feel the impact of it against Linda's hand. I turned to look at her to make sure everything was okay; she seemed fine. "Oops," she said, "Careful there!"

... and then I turned to Random Guy. Yeah. The guy literally had beer dripping from his forehead. There was a visible trail of beer head spattering the front of his jacket from the lapel down to the pockets. This guy got it bad.

"Oh my god," I tell him. "I am sooooo sorry."

"Uh, yeah," Random Guy says. "You ought to be more careful there, man."

"Uh... yeah. I was, like, dancing. Uh, sorry."

"You ought to buy this lady a beer," he tells me, nodding toward Linda. I presume he's trying to sound nice now by trying to make it sound like I owe Linda something rather than emphasize that he's the one I've just pissed off royally. It was all I could do to refrain from telling him that I was the one who had paid for the last round so that, in fact, I actually had already paid for the now-spilled beverage.

"Well," he says to Linda, "I'm gonna go get a bit cleaned up." He heads off to the bathroom. I had been to the bathroom earlier; it reminded of what I imagine women's rooms to be like. The guys in there spent an inordinate amount of time chatting, mostly about the hot girls on the dance floor or who had been pulled up to the stage with the band. It was odd. I imagine he went to the sink and found himself having to explain why he was washing beer off of his face and jacket. Probably something involving some idiot Asian fuckface (me).

The moment he excused himself, I burst out laughing.

He came back after he was done and stood near us again for a little bit. When he came back, he politely suggested that I keep my right arm in check. I told him I couldn't promise him anything.



1/ If you live in the DC area and you get a chance, you must see Gonzo's Nose. They rock. And I have an amazing crush on one of the guitarists. Too bad he has a girlfriend.

2/ Okay, not to sound like a total snob, but I haven't been to a place that served cups of beer in ages. Well, maybe some of the bars on the beach. Seriously now.