Walked around the whole place, into every room, takin’ it in. In one of the rooms there was a larger crowd and rock music being played. So I decided while I wait for the cover band to start up, I’ll grab a beer here and people watch. Waited at the bar for several minutes, apparently the bar tender was busy…Then a man with one leg came up on crutches. Not knowing how the night was going to start out, and having a strange feeling it was going to start out with him buying me a drink, I ignored him. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to notice the “F OFF” sticker on my forehead and joked, “You know men seemed to get served faster around here!” Ha. Oh, great line. He got the bar tender to come over and I ordered. He paid. And when he saw the look on my face he said, “Hey relax, I’m with someone! A great woman in fact.” Nice.

After sitting in that room for a while, I walked back over to where the band was going to be. They had started. Sweet country music was filling my ears! Immediately after sitting down I see, on the dance floor, two girls (one quite butch), line dancing to “Friends in Low Places”. Not only is that not a line dancing song, they are not even close to keeping rhythm. This bar rules. Lezzies line dancing to a crap cover band in the meat market. Fantastic.

Stream of thought:

Now they’re playing johnny be good from back to the future and the lezzies are in full swing. I mean rippin it up. Holy crap.

HAHA. OMG. Now “I Don’t Even Know His Last Name” is playing. Little miss tramp with halter and nipples is doing the seated sex roll dance. You know what I mean. The would be slow-roll-booty dance but seated. Oh my. WTF.  Songs like that must really resonate with people like her. Make them feel better about their shit decisions in life. Oh that’s rich. Hands through her hair. Work it girl.

WOAH. CREEPER just walked in. Stop stairing at me. OMG. SICK. Full on eye contact for WAY too long. What do you think I am going to do? Jump your bones because you’re creepy and stairing? NO. So STOP.

Oh SHIT.  Why? Why did you just come up and talk to me? Hundred bucks I’m with the band? Oh. Great line. Now I want you. Gonna watch the dogs run tomorrow? Yes. Leave ME ALONE.

Aaaaaand scene.

Luckily I had a real conversation with the only dude wearing boots and a hat. HE was one of The Normals. College Professor. From LA. Knew how to two step. I saw him earlier dancing with the lezzies and asked, “So do you also dance with women who aren’t into other women?” He looked confused. Then burst out, “Oh, right…You think they’re together?!” HA. yes. yes I do. Especially since that one leads when they dance together.

For those of you unfamiliar with McBabe’s, please refer back to Mead, Dancing & Drinking to gain some background knowledge on the honkie-tonk wonder.

* The Normals
Pertaining to, or speaking of, all those working full-time, self or otherwise employed; individuals who know and understand social cues, graces and are genuinely interested in the well being of others; persons of intelligence and wit.

Mead *
You should already be familiar with this character.

The Stomper *
Extroverted thirty year old male with a giggly laugh and large goofy smile. Works as a corrections officer. He has decent rhythm but is somehow a millistep off; this makes for a very awesome awkwardness on the dance floor. Do not mistake this for clumsy. The Stomper is very coordinated. He just provides a little over embellishment when there is any stomp involved in the dances. He used to spill beers on the bar when he’d stomp on the dance floor.

Tall One
Tall and broad woman in her late twenties who is currently living off of unemployment yet continues to frequent the bars. To her credit, she is very friendly and does not drink. Unfortunately she her muse is gossip and the fabrication of drama.

Realtor *
Quiet, soft-spoken and seemingly reserved young woman in her mid twenties. Once you get to know her (or she has a sip of the devil’s punch), she’s a bit more spit-fire. This girl is sharp, bright and a little spunky. Very fun to be around.

Smiles
A very intelligent, successful forty five year old pot-bellied, Harley-riding male who happens to be an amazing dancer. He has a large grin and always smiles while dancing. I would consider him one of The Normals but he is a dirty old man who has a taste for women and lewd jokes.

Brother *
A divorced late thirty something ex-Mormon male with two kids who, up until a recent purchase of cowboy boots, wore pleated pants with dress shoes to the cowboy bar. He now dressed in blue jeans and his new boots. Despite the sound of the first sentance, he is quite normal. Nicest man you’ll ever meet. He is kind, easy to talk to, intelligent and very interesting.

Curls and Whiskey
With two (or three?) children at home, this single, mid thirties woman frequents the bar for escape. She starts with whiskey and then moves on to beer. Friendly at first but quite manipulative. She is friends with Tall One.

The Aggressor
A seemingly despirate, overly friendly school teacher who has a very large and obvious crush on Brother. Because Brother is so nice, The Aggressor takes his kindlness as attention and punces on it like a large cat in heat. Her name would be Couger if she went after younger prey.

One night was particularly memorable. We had had several drinks (prolly like 2 sheets to the wind) and we were sitting on this stage thing that is, but never gets used for, a pole dancing type jig. I remember scanning the room earlier that night and noticing a good looking cowboy (very similar looking to the picture to the right).  As we’re sitting on the stage he came up and starting talking to us. Nice guy. Asked me to dance several times and we were having a good time. In between dances the three of us girls were chatting with him and my friend asked his name. The music was loud and he was at LEAST 3 sheets in so when he spoke it sounded like he said, “MEAD”. We replied, “What?! Mead?” And he said, “No, Mead.” This continued for about five minutes until finally he said, “MY NAME IS PETER. PETE FOR SHORT. PETE! MY NAME IS PETE!” We all laughed. For the rest of the night, and for many months after we referred to him as Mead.

Anyway, back to the story: The evening was winding down and we were getting ready to leave. Mead decided, “I want to kiss one of you.” “Huh…did he just say that?” is what I thought. Indeed he did, as was confirmed when he leaned in quickly toward my friend to my left! She kicked back as fast as she could, almost laying flat on her back on the stage, yelling, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” and then pointing at me, “SHE’S SINGLE!” Before I knew what was going on, I turned my head only to find his faced mashed against mine in the most awkward kiss of my life. My friends were on the ground, probably peeing their pants, laughing hysterically.

A few weeks later we returned to McBabes. Mead was there. After sometime of making eye contact and inquisitive, “do I know you?” across-the-room glances, he approached me, asking me to dance. We once again struck up conversation, only this time sober. I learned he just bought a horse, drove a truck, love the outdoors, etc. At the end of the night he asked for my number and if I wanted to go horse back riding sometime. In a moment of, I dunno…weakness? curiosity? I agreed.

We ended up going on several dates and though he was still good looking and a good kisser (minus the awk bar kiss), he was a very matter-of-fact talker and extremely boring.

Moral of the story: don’t let drunk boys kiss you at bars and then give them your number just because they drive a truck, own horses or look like Brad Paisley.