|
Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details. Old Man Clubbing by J. G. Fabiano As I was standing outside the Muddy River Smokehouse in Portsmouth, New Hampshire I realized that I haven't entered the club atmosphere for at least ten years. Hell, it must be even longer than that. Some friends joined my wife and I for dinner at the Dolphin Striker and decided that we should explore the "bar-scene" instead of our usual after dinner coffee and dessert. We asked the waitress and she told us that there was a great blues band playing at the Smokehouse that was within walking distance. We decided to give it a try. There were a lot of people wandering around the entrance to the club. The most obvious observation was that few of the people outside actually went in. This seemed odd to me until I entered and walked down the stairs that led to the bar. At the door was a rather large man with an interesting scent collecting a $10.00 cover charge. This explained why many people did not enter. I actually thought I recognized the "bouncer" as an ex-student. I think he also recognized me but did not precipitate any kind of conversation. Now that I think about it I remember this particular person as not being the best of students. In fact, I don't think he graduated at all. After we paid our $40.00 we entered the club to find that it was totally filled. There were no seats or tables. In fact, there was little space to stand. I went up to the bar and wormed my way through the people who looked as though they owned their section of the floor. Maybe they did. After a few minutes of being patient I waved over the barkeeper who looked like he just started high school. At first he just glanced away but I was persistent. I was also thirsty. He supplied the drinks I ordered and I supplied him with a little less than $30.00. I again understood why many people opted not to go into this particular watering hole. The four of us then weaved our way through the crowd and found some space up against a wall that was very close to the band. There were people sitting on chairs without tables in front of them presumably hoping that they would have the best view of the entertainment. After a few seconds of attempting to lean on a pole that I assume held up the ceiling, I was asked by a rather young man to move because I was standing in front of a chair that would soon be holding his friend. I then wedged myself closer to the wall because I knew that I was a stranger in an obviously strange world. A few minutes later an older man sat next to his friend, held hands, and waited patiently for the band to begin. The band consisted of 4 members that were surrounded by about 12 other people who I assume were in charge of set-up and sound check. In fact, for the next half-hour the only sound I heard was from one of the people who was not part of the band exclaim the words, "check one-two", into all of the microphones. During this time I decided to look around the room and attempt to get a feel for what the new bar-scene had become. The first thing I noticed was that most of the men were my age. The concept of old men clubbing brought a smile to my face. They were probably a bit younger but my self-image stopped getting older the moment I turned 40. They were all clustered in groups of two and three. Some of the men stood alone scanning the crowd hoping to find the perfect mate for the evening. I can't assume that they were looking for women because of the experience I had with the people whose view I had blocked a few minutes earlier. The women in the club all seemed very young to me. In fact, they reminded me of my students. They were all clustered in groups of 4 and 5. They were giggling, laughing, and every now and then pointing. Some scanned the room while others just stared into their glasses hoping to be seen. The people I did not see throughout the room were the older women and younger men. I assume the older women were at the Sheraton with the younger men standing outside of the club not being able to afford entrance. The band finally started to play with the dance floor completely filling as soon as the music began. The music was fast but everyone on the floor slow-danced. I use this term because I had used it before when I experienced my own first dance when I was 14 years old. In fact, this particular night reminded me of my pre-teen years. The pairs on the dance floor held each other close but most did not talk or even look at each other. The women just looked around the room hoping that there would be someone better out in the crowd and the men just stared over the head of their partner in fear that they would be rejected again. In reality I have no idea what they were thinking but I was condemned at birth with an over active imagination. After the first song everyone left the dance floor and immediately arrived back as soon as the band began its second song. I don't know if I am using the correct term here because my concept of a song is not what the band was playing. The interesting part is that there were now totally different couples on the floor. But, they did exactly what the first couples did. This change of couples continued through the band's first set. I then decided to wander a bit throughout the room. Actually I had little choice because of the adage that one never buys beer, one only rents it. The rest rooms were deep in the back of the room. I had to weave my way in between the tables and people trying not to bump into anyone who did not want to be bumped into. I also noticed that there were few women toward the back to the room. Standing in groups of four or five were men obviously hoping not to be rejected again. I also noticed that the men were casually dressed in jeans and outdoors-like shirts. I can't say that they were attempting to create the "grunge" look but a high fashioned appearance they did not give. The women, on the other hand, were dressed to kill. Again I saw little difference between the atmosphere at the club and a sophomore mixer at most of our public high schools. I finally arrived at the restroom only to find that it could only handle one man at a time. What really surprised me was that there was no line. I wondered if the men had evolved the capacity to hold a massive amount of liquid without having to release the pressure. Knowing that I did not have this evolutionary characteristic I was glad that I did not have to wait in any line. I also noticed that the ladies end of the rest room was also empty. I then began to wonder if anyone in the room was drinking. I then worked my way back to our small corner of the wall. My wife and my friends were ready to leave as soon as I returned. We left before the band finished its first set. As I exited the door and climbed the stairs I noticed that there were still many young men meandering outside. I wanted to tell them that they were some of the lucky ones but I decided against attempting to cross generation lines. We then entered a coffee shop and had some dessert. During our conversation it was obvious that my friends and wife had made similar observations about the club. We laughed about it and came to the conclusion that our time in the club scene was obviously over and we all hoped that we would never be forced back into it. The End
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
