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Not puttin' up with that $hit!
Dec. 31st, 2011 08:43 pmSo I had a bit of an incident last night at my regular line dance bar. It really ticked me off, and I need to share.
To give you a bit of background, I somewhat regularly go to In Cahoots, a Country-Western dance bar up in Anaheim. It is a straight bar, but the people there have been very friendly. Over the past few years, I have gone there on Friday nights and taken line dance lessons. And for me, its not only fun, but really good exercise. Typically, I work up a sweat in no time, and after a few dances, shed my overshirt which is sopping wet. (I know... TMI. But it figures into the tale).
Last night, I went to the bar, and met up with a friend of mine. I got my bucket of beer. I danced several dances. I had fun. But then, later on in the evening, I was waiting in line at the bar when the security guard came over. Awkwardly, he told me that I needed to put on my overshirt. "Excuse me?" I asked with all the surprise of a guy who had been going to that bar for years, and followed the exact same pattern every time I go there. "Well, the manager asked me to come over," he said. "I don't have a problem, but he wanted me to enforce the dress code." "The DRESS CODE?!!!" I asked, rather pissed off at this point, as I looked around at the many versions of Barbie's slutty baby sister surrounding me, wearing string-tank tops, and Daisy Dukes so tight as to indicate their religions. "WHO exactly is your manager?!!!" I said ready to just explode. "I wanna have a little chat with him!" He gave me a description of the manager, and told me where I could probably find him.
Going back to my chair, I grabbed my overshirt, but immediately began looking for the manager. Wandering around the bar, I couldn't find him, so I asked other staff members, who seemed concerned that I was looking for the manager. But I wasn't about to let up. I am very rarely a confrontational kinda guy. But to be given crap for wearing a tank top when I am hot and sweaty is unacceptable - especially when woman after woman after woman walks by wearing them. Sorry but, I don't go for gender discrimination, and I'm not gonna take that crap - especially in a bar where I am paying for my own damned drinks!
Eventually, I got the door guy to page for the manager, and eventually he showed up, shoulders hunched around his ears. "Hi," I said to him loudly, shaking his hand with the firm shake of a guy who was out for blood. "I understand there is some issue with me wearing a tank top?" I said, intentionally trying to provoke him to say something really stupid. "Oh, actually..." he said to me in a rather timid voice. "Um... I had a talk with the guard, and um... its fine. There's no problem."
WTF? So.. the guy has the guard talk to me. But AFTER he talked to me, they decided that it was ok, but just neglected to tell me?! Bull-pucky! What a wuss!
"Well, we normally really enforce the dress code on 18 and over night. But I've seen you on gay Sundays, and don't have a problem." he said to me, as if the situation would suddenly get better. But now my blood was REALLY beginning to boil. Somehow, someway, it went from a gender-discrimination issue to a gay issue. Had I shown up on Sunday and been in my tank-top array, that would suddenly be ok because that's the night that the gays normally show up? But not on a Friday night when the normal people show up?!!!!!! "I's so SORRY massa!" I wanted to say. "I shoulda knowd not to be showin' up when it ain't negro-day!"
"Excuse me!" I said now clearly pissed. "You have NOT seen me here on a Sunday! I have NEVER been here on a Sunday! I come here on a Friday night to unwind after a long work week, to have some beer, and to dance - Just Like EVERYBODY ELSE HERE! And now that I know that you don't have a dress-code issue with me, I'll continue to do so, as long as it is still fun to do!" By this point, his shoulders were up around his ears, and he was very quiet and withdrawn. As for me, I turned my back on the guy, yanked off my overshirt, and began walking around the bar.
Now the fact is, I know that I'm the only guy there on a Friday night strutting around in a tank top. And I couldn't care less! I'm not doing it to try and attract anybody. It is utilitarian. I dance. I sweat. Period. Add on that, if I do say so myself, I look pretty damned good in a tank top. I sport the tattoos and feel good. Perhaps because I stand out like a sore thumb, it makes the manager a bit nervous. Perhaps I look a little too gay. Perhaps I don't blend in with the rest of the cowboys. Frankly... GOOD! What I find most appalling is the fact that it is such a poser situation, anyway. This isn't Texas. This is Orange County, for cryin' out loud! We have a large Mexican population. We have the largest Vietnamese population outside of Vietnam. And we have a large Iranian population. The only other population that people generally note in Orange County are the silicon queens with more botox than brains. The nearest freaken' "cowboy" might live in Riverside, but not here! Frankly, I'm far more legit than the "Cowboys" who show up at that bar!
I guess what upsets me so damned much about this situation is the stupid-assed pressure by a perfect stranger to try and be what they want me to be. I have two words for that - FUCK THAT! I am NOT going to sit in the back seat of the bus. I refuse to act according to the rules or regulations that somebody else has decided to sporadicly impose. And I absolutely will not accept the idea of being welcome as long as I don't act like myself. I do not condone the idea of one day being more open and acceptable than another. I will go to a bar when I want to - not when a manager decides it would be more comfortable for him! If this were a private club with clearly stated rules that applied to all people, that would be one thing. But this wasn't the case.
Part of me says, I shouldn't go back. Why should I give my $ to a business that does that to somebody? Then I changed my mind. The people there have been nice. The dancing is fun. I like the timing and the location. And frankly, I'm not going to be driven out by a wussy nebishy dweeb who doesn't have the balls to even stand behind his own decisions. I'll return. And you get one guess what I'll be wearing.
My point in sharing this? I highly encourage everybody out there - whether you live in Orange County or not - don't ever, EVER take that crap! Don't accept less-than-polite behavior because of your gender, or your age, or your religion, or your skin color, or your sexuality, or your ethnicity, or anything else. Stand up for yourself. Stand up for your rights. And do what is right.
See you on the dance floor!
To give you a bit of background, I somewhat regularly go to In Cahoots, a Country-Western dance bar up in Anaheim. It is a straight bar, but the people there have been very friendly. Over the past few years, I have gone there on Friday nights and taken line dance lessons. And for me, its not only fun, but really good exercise. Typically, I work up a sweat in no time, and after a few dances, shed my overshirt which is sopping wet. (I know... TMI. But it figures into the tale).
Last night, I went to the bar, and met up with a friend of mine. I got my bucket of beer. I danced several dances. I had fun. But then, later on in the evening, I was waiting in line at the bar when the security guard came over. Awkwardly, he told me that I needed to put on my overshirt. "Excuse me?" I asked with all the surprise of a guy who had been going to that bar for years, and followed the exact same pattern every time I go there. "Well, the manager asked me to come over," he said. "I don't have a problem, but he wanted me to enforce the dress code." "The DRESS CODE?!!!" I asked, rather pissed off at this point, as I looked around at the many versions of Barbie's slutty baby sister surrounding me, wearing string-tank tops, and Daisy Dukes so tight as to indicate their religions. "WHO exactly is your manager?!!!" I said ready to just explode. "I wanna have a little chat with him!" He gave me a description of the manager, and told me where I could probably find him.
Going back to my chair, I grabbed my overshirt, but immediately began looking for the manager. Wandering around the bar, I couldn't find him, so I asked other staff members, who seemed concerned that I was looking for the manager. But I wasn't about to let up. I am very rarely a confrontational kinda guy. But to be given crap for wearing a tank top when I am hot and sweaty is unacceptable - especially when woman after woman after woman walks by wearing them. Sorry but, I don't go for gender discrimination, and I'm not gonna take that crap - especially in a bar where I am paying for my own damned drinks!
Eventually, I got the door guy to page for the manager, and eventually he showed up, shoulders hunched around his ears. "Hi," I said to him loudly, shaking his hand with the firm shake of a guy who was out for blood. "I understand there is some issue with me wearing a tank top?" I said, intentionally trying to provoke him to say something really stupid. "Oh, actually..." he said to me in a rather timid voice. "Um... I had a talk with the guard, and um... its fine. There's no problem."
WTF? So.. the guy has the guard talk to me. But AFTER he talked to me, they decided that it was ok, but just neglected to tell me?! Bull-pucky! What a wuss!
"Well, we normally really enforce the dress code on 18 and over night. But I've seen you on gay Sundays, and don't have a problem." he said to me, as if the situation would suddenly get better. But now my blood was REALLY beginning to boil. Somehow, someway, it went from a gender-discrimination issue to a gay issue. Had I shown up on Sunday and been in my tank-top array, that would suddenly be ok because that's the night that the gays normally show up? But not on a Friday night when the normal people show up?!!!!!! "I's so SORRY massa!" I wanted to say. "I shoulda knowd not to be showin' up when it ain't negro-day!"
"Excuse me!" I said now clearly pissed. "You have NOT seen me here on a Sunday! I have NEVER been here on a Sunday! I come here on a Friday night to unwind after a long work week, to have some beer, and to dance - Just Like EVERYBODY ELSE HERE! And now that I know that you don't have a dress-code issue with me, I'll continue to do so, as long as it is still fun to do!" By this point, his shoulders were up around his ears, and he was very quiet and withdrawn. As for me, I turned my back on the guy, yanked off my overshirt, and began walking around the bar.
Now the fact is, I know that I'm the only guy there on a Friday night strutting around in a tank top. And I couldn't care less! I'm not doing it to try and attract anybody. It is utilitarian. I dance. I sweat. Period. Add on that, if I do say so myself, I look pretty damned good in a tank top. I sport the tattoos and feel good. Perhaps because I stand out like a sore thumb, it makes the manager a bit nervous. Perhaps I look a little too gay. Perhaps I don't blend in with the rest of the cowboys. Frankly... GOOD! What I find most appalling is the fact that it is such a poser situation, anyway. This isn't Texas. This is Orange County, for cryin' out loud! We have a large Mexican population. We have the largest Vietnamese population outside of Vietnam. And we have a large Iranian population. The only other population that people generally note in Orange County are the silicon queens with more botox than brains. The nearest freaken' "cowboy" might live in Riverside, but not here! Frankly, I'm far more legit than the "Cowboys" who show up at that bar!
I guess what upsets me so damned much about this situation is the stupid-assed pressure by a perfect stranger to try and be what they want me to be. I have two words for that - FUCK THAT! I am NOT going to sit in the back seat of the bus. I refuse to act according to the rules or regulations that somebody else has decided to sporadicly impose. And I absolutely will not accept the idea of being welcome as long as I don't act like myself. I do not condone the idea of one day being more open and acceptable than another. I will go to a bar when I want to - not when a manager decides it would be more comfortable for him! If this were a private club with clearly stated rules that applied to all people, that would be one thing. But this wasn't the case.
Part of me says, I shouldn't go back. Why should I give my $ to a business that does that to somebody? Then I changed my mind. The people there have been nice. The dancing is fun. I like the timing and the location. And frankly, I'm not going to be driven out by a wussy nebishy dweeb who doesn't have the balls to even stand behind his own decisions. I'll return. And you get one guess what I'll be wearing.
My point in sharing this? I highly encourage everybody out there - whether you live in Orange County or not - don't ever, EVER take that crap! Don't accept less-than-polite behavior because of your gender, or your age, or your religion, or your skin color, or your sexuality, or your ethnicity, or anything else. Stand up for yourself. Stand up for your rights. And do what is right.
See you on the dance floor!
