Swingin' Singles

January 12, 2014

The bar surely had seen better days. Weak portions of the floorboards are warped, carpet sticky underneath my boots as I entered into the din. A long narrow entryway held a smattering of paraphernalia from nostalgic days gone by. Sitting at the bar on cushions, saggy like month old rolls smashed into a form fit, drinking fire-breathing wine, and scoping out the place made us look like wide-eyed tourists. The air of parching wine and headless tap beer sank into my pours, causing them to clog. I had such high hopes of a perfect night out with my friend, especially since the joint was recommended by a reliable source. A handful of clients sat ‘round the table nearby, tossing dice. One hollering obscenities then promptly announcing he is sorry for his horrible language, and turning back to the intimacy of his gambling debtors.

The mild crowd, lumped together in twos and threes, situated themselves in the main room, close to the dance floor so we made our way thru the cheap vinyl seats to a table with perfect view of the stage. As the wobbly tables filled, I began to accept the comfort of a sizable mass, humming favorable comments regarding the popular band.

A number of the folks dancing wore strips of masking tape across their chest, declaring their dependence upon a Meet-Up group function. Quite a few were sauntering across the dance floor, totally without expression as though awaiting a colonoscopy procedure. A fair number of couples moved briskly around the area. Enough enthusiasm swirled around them to instigate a wave of energy that swarmed like a flock of late departure Canadian geese. A terrifically tan woman swooshed past, controlled by the much more mature man, eager and firm in his grip. Anyone would have looked like Ginger Rogers in his sure fist.

The funky band of ten men, the majority of them would be sore in the morning from the exertion, had everyone swaying in their seats or jumping around at the hole-in-the-wall find. I was able to keep on my feet through a number of songs, jiggling to my own drummer, having a good time out on the town for a change. My ankle pain kept me from break-dancing but I enjoyed myself immensely.

Middle-aged clientele, glad to be out of the running of the 20-something competition, paired-up and cleared-out at bar time. We joined them, still single.