Tuesday, June 26, 2012

The Orgy Dance (not as fun as it sounds)

PDA:
"Public Displays of Affection, can be seen in the form of kissing, touching, groping, licking, nuzzling, cuddling, crossing hands into each other's opposite back pockets, etc. Usually spotted among new couples, frisky teenagers, and occasionally the 'young at heart' (god help us)." (via Urban Dictionary)
There is a time and place to show how you feel about your significant other (or that guy or girl you've been ogling across the bar awkwardly for the last four hours). Some people like PDA when they're coupled, some don't. Some people are okay seeing other couples displaying affection, others are not. Some people like to have orgy conga lines in bars with their significant other. And another couple. 

Friday night I was at a Hybrid Lounge, a pretty chill bar in Milwaukee. They have a DJ and encourage dancing, but this isn't some giant club where you can do the nasty in the back room (do those actually exist?) and no one will notice. "The back room" at Hybrid happens to feature tables and a second bar. Well, my friend and I were sitting at the back bar when suddenly I felt someone press against me. I turned to find four guys all rubbing up on each other in a four person sandwich, standing against the bar. You couldn't even tell who was coupled with who. Then they started making out with each other. It was so romantic. And by romantic I mean "gross." 

I observed in amazement (read: horror) and then the inevitable happened: I had to use the restroom. I always "break the seal1" and end up having to leave my bar stool a dozen times an hour.  I averted my eyes and made my escape around the "grouple." On my way back I encountered one tiny problem: I had been sitting at the end of the bar with the wall to my right and, in my absence, the orgy conga line had formed a wall running from the bar to that wall. I was cut off from my friend. What does one do in an awkward situation? Blend in. So I wrapped my arms around myself, pretended to make out with my shoulder, and danced (read: humped) my way through the line. 

I made my way back to my bar stool in one piece only to find the bartender2 searching frantically for a cleaning product strong enough to erase the stains--and scarring memories--from the bar. No such magical spray exists. My corneas may never heal. Nor will the clothes that I wore during my encounter and had to burn when I got home.

1 In my defense, I'm pretty sure the whole "breaking the seal" thing is a myth. I mean, of course you won't have to go to the bathroom more if you just fight the urge, because your bladder will explode and you will die. Fact. Probably.

2 This is definitely not the funniest post I've written, but I have a confession... I may or may not have only written this post because the cute bartender told me that I should give the bar a shout out on the blog. Not sure this was the kind of publicity he was looking for, but I can assure you that Hybrid is an awesome bar with awesome owners and awesome bartenders. And the occasional creepy patron. But hey, we wouldn't love people watching if everyone acted sane.

3 comments:

  1. Oh, mike. It sounds like Milwaukee is a lot more tame than my second home of palm springs. I have been to way more wild bars, and I am a straight girl. I, in fact, eagerly await the invention of mind bleach, so I can erase visions of things that once seen, can never be unseen.

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  2. And this is why I do not go to gay bars.

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    1. Liiieeessss! Besides, straight people have their crazies too and the crazies are half (all?) the fun of bars!

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