I know I wanted to give a little background information on The Post Bar but it occurred to me that, in order to cover all there is, I'd be missing out on some daily stories and would probably forget all about these episodes when it came time to start talking about them. Although there are some stories that I'd like to forget...
Last week, as I stood in the middle room playing a video game, Jimmy, the bartender came up behind me and said that I had an ass like a blooming strawberry. Now, at 38 years old, there are a good number of people in the world who's asses have seen better days and are starting to slide south like the polar icecaps. I'm proud to say that my buns (although as white as the driven snow) are still high, tight and nice to look at.
Yesterday was my day off and I needed to run across town to drop off my rent check. All of my jeans were in the wash, so I threw on a pair of sweats and went on my merry way. After spending a few hours walking around the city (it was the first really nice day of spring here in Philly), I decided to stop in at the bar for a couple beers.
Granted, I stayed for more than just a couple, as my friends, Michael & Ozzie (oops. I promised them I'd make up fake names)--errrr.... I mean Murray and Ollie, walked in and we sat and chatted. The three of us get along great together. We laugh and joke and just carry on. So much so that one time we were even sushed by a bitter-old-floral-print-shirt-seashell-necklace-wearing-throwback-from-the-70's-queen because we were laughing too loud. Imagine that, being in a bar and being told to shut up because we were having a good time!
Anyway, the conversation eventually made its way to the topic of this very blog and Michael/Murray suggested that I should include some pictures. He said that he has great pictures of the bar, including one of a fabulous waterfall in the storage closet. This decorating feature was sadly removed when the rest of the ceiling came crashing down during some heavy rains. From there, the subject drifted to the bar's "old days" back in the mid-80's (before our time) when the place was more than just a neighborhood watering hole, but an actual destination spot for the city's gay community.
Jimmy, the bartender, said he had some old photo albums in the back office and asked if we'd like to look through them. After a few minutes, he returned not with the books, but an entire strawberry shortcake that he plopped down on the bar infront of me. This was another leg of the run-on joke that's been going on about my butt for the last week, but it wasn't going to be the last before the night was thru.
A few minutes after that, Jimmy returned a 2nd time. This time carrying two or three photo albums. We all started flipping through the pages, laughing at some recognizable faces and outfits. Apparently, the bar used to host a "prom" at the Warwick Hotel next door and all the pages were filled with God-awful ugly drag queens in full evening wear and their dates in pastel blue formals with velveteen collars and ruffled shirts. I seriously need to get ahold of some of the best of the best of those pictures and place them on here for all the world to see. They shouldn't be hiding in a dusty corner in the back office of the bar.
Jimmy also has this fascination with my nipples. For years now he's been grabbing them and pinching them and trying to get me to scream uncle or who's your daddy or some shit. At times he gets going on them like he's Helga, the Milkmaid and I'm his prized cow. I'm not saying that I don't like my nipples played with. I actually do. There are times when I would start playing with them witho............... oops...sorry. ...without even knowing. Alot of times, however, Jimmy gets alittle carried away with them.
Last night, while looking through the photos, he came up behind me, put his arms under mine, reached infront and started playing with them. I'm always skittish when he acts like this because I never know how far he's gonna take things. One second, he could be gently carassing them and the next, attacking them like Anna Nicole Smith attacks a jar of pickles. But this time he was fairly gentle. And, after having several beers now, I'm not gonna lie and say it didn't feel good. His head was on my shoulder while he did it as we both looked through the old photographs and smiled at the apparent good times these people in the past seemed to be having. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that we were sitting in a gay bar and there was a guy behind me reaching around and playing with my nipples, you'd think it was one of those tender moments you only see in a Lifetime Original Movie.
During the course of the evening, there were a few more comments referencing strawberries by some others and soon enough it was time to leave. Murray, Ollie---aaaah, fuck it---Michael, Ozzie and I all left together and Michael said something to me about not having a jacket and looking like "trailer trash" in my sweats and thermal shirt.
As I stepped out into the daylight from the darkness of the bar, I was surprised by two things. First, it was still daylight (daylight savings was just this past weekend) and second, it was still warm and I didn't need the jacket that I didn't have in the first place. To prove my point at not needing a jacket, I slowly raised my arms up above my head, palms facing skyward, leaned back my head and closed my eyes, joyous that spring has finally arrived in the city.
Little did I know that expressing my joy for the change of season was also expressing my extreme vulnerability for what was about to happen...
Without realizing it, Jimmy, the nipple grabbing-fruit referencing bartender, snuck up behind me. In one fell swoop, he grabbed the waistband of my sweatpants (and also my boxers) and yanked them both down to my ankles. Here I stood, like Moses parting the Red Sea, with my lily white ass exposed to a group of hotel workers down the alley having a smoke!!! I fell to the ground, yanking my pants back up and then scrambled to my feet again and chased Jimmy back into the bar.
Mortified, I vowed my revenge....slow and painful, and left the bar. Michael and Ozzie were at the end of the alley sounding alot like Schultz, from Hogan's Heros: "I see nussin'..."
Later that night, I was over Michael & Ozzie's house having some pizza when another friend called on my cell phone. He seemed alittle drunk and was speaking loudly enough for M&O to hear everything he was saying (some things didn't need to be overheard). I told him what had happened to me in the alleyway and he said he was heading over to the Post. I told him to ask Jimmy why he embarassed me like that (not really believing he would be going over to the bar in the first place).
When I arrived home, Jimmy called me on my cell phone and mentioned a strange man who walked in and asked about my pants being pulled down. Jimmy claimed it wasn't him and blamed it on the daytime bartender who had already left. I later found out through his own admission that Jimmy was alittle nervous about this guy because he thought maybe I had sent someone in there in a full fury. He was afraid the guy was going to leap over the bar at him.
Hmmmmmmmmm....
I let this thought seep in to my tired mind as I drifted off to sleep....
Revenge is going to be sweet.
As sweet as a strawberry shortcake...
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