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 civilized way to spend an afternoon as indeed it was…for a while.
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 realized 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 centers of attention as two gentlemen came strolling 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 apologized 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 with out newly found friends 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 realize 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 vodka cocktails, 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