Friday, October 15, 2010
Hey! You! Get Out of My Way!Part 8 Enter the 9th Circle
All night long Brian is on me like white on rice. Peter Pan’s shadow spent less time attached than Brian did. The longer the night got, the drunker Brian got. He started slurring “You’re so hot” which ended up sounding “Er so snot.” I was constantly removing his hands from me.
I was very busy all night long trying to get everyone served and trying to learn everyone’s names. It was the strangest mix of people I had ever seen. Everyone from the homeless (not kidding) to Wall Street traders and everyone in between were there all under one roof. It took me about 20 minutes to realize that I was indeed working in a hustler bar. Young twinky boys were hanging off old men acting like they were Leona Helmsley when they ordered their drinks. Every now and then someone would snap their fingers to get my attention. It was so loud in there that you could have banged a gong and I still wouldn’t have heard you.
I loved every minute of being there. I have always had friends from every spectrum and corner of life and this was one of the reasons I moved to New York. Two of my favorite customers were hustlers; I met on my first night. Their names were Dennis and Scott. Dennis was tripping his brains out on LSD and Scott was dressed somewhere between a Nazi Guard and a German youth. He has on Black boots to the knees, white shirt, long tan trench coat, Aryan youth haircut and riding crop tucked under his arm. He snapped the crop on my ass to get my attention. “Oh, Boy” he said waving his crop at the table. “How long do I have to wait to get served?” My reaction was not what he expected, I burst into laughter. Dennis tripping his brains out giggled along with me.
I introduced myself to the two of them. Scott extended his hand as if I was helping him out of a handsome cab and Dennis wandered away. Scott went on to tell me that he and Dennis had just picked up an old man who was blind drunk at another bar, caught a cab and headed to their apartment in Harlem. When they got there they took the guys wallet and pushed him out of the cab. The cab driver sped off, Scott and Dennis split the money with him and headed here. “The funny thing is,” said Scott “I don’t live in Harlem.”
I didn’t know what to do or say. I was shocked and again, intrigued. I had never heard or seen anything like this. Of course things got weird at Uncle Charlie’s but this took things to another level. Scott then ordered 2 vodka and sodas with a twist. “Coming right up” I cheerfully responded.
“Beware of that one.” Don said pointing to Scott. “Way ahead of you,” I responded. This was also the night I was to meet my long time friend Mitch. I was standing at the end of the bar when I felt a tap tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find this short, zaftig and very blond kid standing there. He was listing from foot to foot, a huge grin on his face. “Hi you’re new,” he said to me, his eyes were slits. “You’re very cute and I love you.” With that said Mitch pitched backwards taking three bar stools with him when he hit the floor. “You’re making quite an impression” said Don with a laugh.
Then the buzzer starting going off………….. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ………..BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Don looked at the buzzer and looked at me. “Sorry Geoff” Don said “Welcome to your baptism by fire”
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
To be continued……………………………