A bar is a funny place. Mostly funny-strange more than funny-ha-ha, but that is not to say that a bar can’t be an amusing little outpost of reality, and none more so than the variety of bar that establishes itself in the heart of the yuppie district of that particular city.
In what has to be some sort of personal record, I was both the most underdressed and overdressed at this bar on Saturday night. Because I elected not to wear what surely is the dress code for such places – a cummerbund as a lower-body-covering garment; a bikini top as an upper-body-covering garment – I looked like I was suitably attired for a blizzard, in comparison. And yet, because I chose jeans and a top that I’ll admit is not Saturday night wear (unless that specific Saturday night involves lying on the couch while eating chocolate), I accomplished being at both ends of the least-desired dress sense scale, simultaneously.
Right, moving away from my state as sartorial pariah, let’s talk about what happens at such a bar.
1) You might run into someone you know, though if, like me, you are out at such ‘scenes’ about twice a year, that becomes less and less likely. (Did you see that? I said ‘scenes’. I am sure that there’ve been dozens of updated terms for what implies a happening place, and I am aware of none of them. That one word alone already makes my take on what’s trendy and ‘now’ null and void. Oi vey, I used the word ‘now’! And HAPPENING!!!!)
2) If you do run into that person and he asks where you’ve been, answering “Practising achieving a spinal hunch” won’t win you any points if you wish to continue the conversation. If you do not, however, it can make you smile a bit.
3) You might sit at a table/stand around a table/stand around holding a drink, a cigarette, a cell phone, a handbag and your friend’s handbag, while waiting to be noticed. Noticed not by ugly mo-fos, but by spectacularly handsome, elegant, charming men. Why? Because, naturally, such places are brimming with spectacularly handsome, elegant, charming men, that’s why. After all, isn’t that why YOU are there? Don’t you deserve such magnificent beings? However, unless you are not a fan of food, a great fan of yellow hair and a staunch devotee of The Cult of Elle Magazine’s Fashion Section, those fellers won’t see you. In fact, even if you do meet the physical requirements, you won’t meet those men. Why? Because they’re not at this particular bar. Why? Because they know better.
4) Despite men glancing through, around and over you, it’s hoped that you might not think this is the end of the world because the women you’re sitting with might talk to you in a sisterly manner about interesting stuff. Why? Because you’re interesting and interested in people. This, however, is not usually the case if you are with friends of a sibling, and friends of their friends, who prefer to speak about how awful the men who frequent that particular bar are, the infancy of the clientele and how fat they look in their outfits.
5) Jokes are forbidden. Oh no, don’t EVER try to be funny with anyone. People-watching is serious stuff. Besides, the volume of the place holds that whomever you’re trying to joke with will only hear “duck…orange…Czech republican” moving past your lips. That never did anyone any good, my friends.
Ok, I have to go look up ‘happening’ in the dictionary now. Excuse me for a bit.