How DARE the DJ play some fake sped up version of "Like A Prayer" ! I mean , really, he'd already fouled (like my TBS/FOX version of the "F" word?) up massively by playing "Love Shack" into "Come on Eileen". Now he was going to insult my every fiber of sensibility by hijacking the one female artist of the 80's I truly respected?
WHATEVER.
I was at Spiny Mcruds or Macrud's - not sure how you spell it. Didn't get a chance to look at the sign because my fashionable "nude" Steve Madden "Violet" pump got caught in a grate outside (first time, thanks). It was already late and my old acting buddy was hauling me over to this joint at 12th and Sansom to see his old roommate and pal, who apparently was this super hot model/actor who bartended there.
I recall him telling me about him - they lived together while he was trying to work on his career acting in NYC. His then roomate, the model, was getting gig after gig (audition after audition - it does take talent to actually SCORE a gig), and he was in some way envious of his roommate's luck. Now, apparently, this super successful person, is living in some NY-nearby-NJ province during the week, and bartending 2 nights a week in my City of Brotherly Love at some local "Irish" bar. I saw the owner and his son, and unless they're "black" Irish, the place should be called either "Fanook Minelli's" or "Faroud Mohammed's", so let's get past the whole "Have another beer, mate!" cultural reference.
For the record: I am in no way disparaging any race or creed or anything; I'm just noting ethnicity for atmosphere and semantic purposes. I also had about 3.5 drinks in the 2 hour span of my time there. This is highly against type for me these days. I apologize if I appear to be insensitive or ignorant in any way. I do not intend to offend.
I digressed. Anyhoo, my point was, this model/actor fella was spending two nights a week down in this joint? Why not work in NYC and make 5-10 times that kind of money for two night's work? According to my drunken friend, it was a convenience on many levels. Since I have no tolerance for that kind of complexity these days, I shook my head. After all, the guy was BLONDE. My acting friend said it was the guy's natural hair color. I had my doubts.
Second Major Digression: I wish I could go to an all-night supermarket and buy some yummy snacks.
Also, it's hard to write while this tired.
So here's this idiot DJ spinning a late night playlist from 2002 or earlier. All I want to do is dance to something really cool. I've gotten out tonight, Guy has given me his blessing to get in touch with my former girly, female fun self and go out on the town. We've checked in at some point to establish my whereabouts and now I'm in this goofy bar that doesn't know if it's Bob & Barbara's or Finnigan's Wake.
The last two songs are unrecognizable but "bumpin," so I decide I want to dance. My acting friend is not really the dancing type, but he concedes and joins me on the steadily emptying floor. I do my thing, dancing and moving like my pre-Spencer self: Trying to be not so self-conscious and let myself just have fun.
We finish struttin', go back to the bar and about 2 minutes later a portly, middle-aged man of color approaches us and begins complimenting us (mostly me) on our dancing abilities. He elaborates, telling us he's from Barbados and that he's been in the States a long time now and most of the time when he goes out, people are cold and don't seem receptive to fun or to talking with him. He says we made him feel there was hope - he felt the energy and fun we were having and felt we were genuine. He repeatedly makes the point that people are in a hurry and don't appreciate what they have; that they just keep going on, in their own worlds, unreceptive and unable to imagine other worlds and other cultures. I try to explain that this is America where noone has to accept anything, and where more often than not, you'll find people wanting you to change your way of life to suit them. It's all about the ME thing. He said that despite that commonality in American culture, there were anomalies and that he wanted to meet as many people as he could - get to know the human race from every perspective and learn to appreciate. He appreciated our vibrance and toasted us with his glass. He said the rest doesn't matter, that it's how we get to relate to eachother.
He felt that appreciation could inspire people to do great things.
When I re-read that, I have no idea what it means, and it's at the heart of what's always perplexed me to no end about the bar scene:
Why do people find the ability to pontificate with such complexity when a bar is near closing, when the alcohol is in full effect and when the secondhand smoke has utterly saturated your skin? I mean there's rambling on drunkenly and incoherently, which everyone has witnessed and can usually escape easily, and then there's this strange phenomenon where people become erudite philosophers with beer breath. You can't really get away, because people in this state are passionate and just coherent enough to stop you and engage you further. All you can do is agree and smile. I did alot of that, and somehow I actually remembered some of what he said. If for no other reason that I hoped in repeating it back, I'd make some sense of it. No such luck.
So, out of courtesy to you, I have taken up YOUR time repeating back to you the very drivel I myself could not interpret.
Perhaps THAT is the truth of it... or...perhaps I should keep a better watch on my alcohol intake.
Goodnight.
