(Mini Series) A Guy Walks into a Bar: Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

“Yeah, man, I’ll be over in a few.” Blake spoke into his cellphone. “Give me twenty minutes? Yep, see ya there.” He hung up and tossed the device onto his unmade bed. After stepping over two piles of dirty laundry, he was able to push the door open to the cluttered bathroom.

He kept telling himself that sooner or later he’d end up in one of those mansions on the outskirts of town, but Nashville hadn’t met him with a warm welcome. This tiny apartment in the middle of town seemed good enough for the bachelor who was still fighting for a record deal.

Blake stepped into the bathroom and looked at his raggedy self in the mirror. His newly adopted haircut still wasn’t agreeing with him and he was still learning his way around maintaining a beard. Regardless, he pushed his short brown locks out of his eyes and lathered them up with some gel before deciding it was good enough. He carefully took the buzzing razor to his jawline and neck and tried to trim the scruff enough to look presentable.

After a rough night at a show and a party, Blake had forgotten all about the weekly trip to the bar with his buddies. Every Thursday night, they’d meet up and shoot a game or two of pool, mock Blake because of his career choice, and make him buy them drinks with the money he claimed to be making.

“There he is!” Jake exclaimed when Blake pushed the old wooden door open to the dimly lit bar. The crowd of four standing around the pool table cheered at the sight of their best player and designated drink buyer.

Blake’s cheeks flushed red beneath his shoddy excuse for a beard and he made his way over. He was filled in on a week’s worth of drama from the farm where most of them worked and his attention was quickly directed at a little something that they had noticed as soon as they walked in.

“She’s new, man. The bartender, look.” Jake’s eyes widened as he cocked his head over his shoulder. Blake’s eyes diverted from buffing the tip of his pool stick and fluttered over to the bar.

What he saw amazed him. A gorgeous woman standing behind the counter, wiping down the bar. She had on an old tank top with her blonde hair hanging perfectly over her shoulders. Blake got lost in those ocean blue eyes for a second until she looked up and saw him eyeing her. He snapped his gaze back towards Jake after he was caught staring.

“She’s fine, isn’t she?” Jake laughed with the half-toothed grin he’s had since he was a teenager. Blake wasn’t about to tell him that she was beautiful, in fear of being mocked for the rest of eternity.

“Oh, yeah, brother.” Blake chuckled. “She’s fine.”

“She’s real fine.” Another friend, Harley, added. She had the whole bar drooling over her and not a single one of them even knew her name.

Blake was never one with the ladies. The only girls he ever got were usually drunk at a show and had him mistaken for a rockstar. Still, being in his late twenties, he was in no position to pass up any piece of ass he could get his hands on.

“Alright, me and Harley against Jake and Porter.” Blake named the teams after their fifth member left.

“Hey, we ain’t starting until you go over there and buy us all a beer. We’ve been waiting here for you for an hour.” Porter was always looking for a way to get a free drink and Blake was his way on more than one occasion.

“I don’t know why I fucking come out with you assholes to be honest,” Blake laughed but made his way over to the bar and plucked his wallet out of his back pocket. It wasn’t until he was standing beside a barstool that he looked up and remembered the old man of a bartender had been replaced by a younger, hotter, female version.

“Um..c-could I get four beers, please?” His words left him for a second and he was left a stuttering mess. The bartender smiled at his nervousness, noting that he was her first customer to use his manners all day. The shakiness in his voice reminded her of how a little boy on the playground acts before asking the cutest girl in the class to play kickball.

As she slid four chilled bottles across the counter, Blake sent a twenty-dollar-bill in her direction.

“Keep the rest,” he told her, taking a minute to collect all four bottles in his hands.

“Good luck,” she smiled. Blake looked up, confused for a moment, but she nodded toward to pool table.

“Oh, I don’t need it.” He winked, making her laugh. All of his friends saw the little exchange and began ragging on him as soon as they had a beer in their hands.

“We know what you’re gonna be doing tonight!” Jake howled, making an obscene gesture to his nether region.

“Man, shut up. You’re disgusting.” Blake punched him in the gut and Jake spit a mouthful of beer all over the floor.

“Blake, admit it. You’d tap that.” Porter was leaning against the pool table, gulping down his drink like he was dying of thirst.

“Hmm? Admit it,” Jake pinched Blake’s cheek, trying to embarrass him. “Or have you been so deprived over the past year of being here,” he let out a loud belch, “that you don’t even remember what something like that,” he motioned to the bartender, “is like?”

“Blake, I bet you a hundred bucks you can’t go over there, talk her into liking your hillbilly ass, and take her home.” Harley’s dimples were on full effect as he leaned in and spoke quietly so only his buddies could hear him. They saw a flash of lust in Blake’s diamond eyes, but they were all too stupid to know what it was.

“One-hundred bucks,” Blake specified. Harley held his hand out and Blake shook it.

“You got until the end of the night.”



Confetti Canon Accident + Limb Loss = Seattle’s First Gay Bar

At the Seattle Bastille day parade of 1970, Shelly Bauman suffered a terrible accident. There was a float that featured an antique canon that people reportedly had poured drinks into, congealing the confetti into a solid ball. So when Shelly fired the cannon and it started swinging controllably it finally at hit her abdomen and ultimately took a part of her pelvis, small intestine, and leg. 

After nine months of recovery, she pursued a lawsuit against both the cannon owner and parade organizers (the City of Seattle). Three years of legal battle amounted to a $330,000 out-of-court settlement.

Shelly then purchased, renovated, and decorated a hotel in order to transform it to Seattle’s first bar/disco for the LGBTQ community along with two gay men, Joe McGonagle and Pat Nesser. And by December 1973, the doors finally opened to the public and it became an instant hit. 

Finding a name was especially difficult. But in the end as Joe stated “This was the era of recreational pharmaceuticals.” One night their friends came up with name, which would immortalize how they got the money: Shelly’s leg.

Sources: (x), (x), (x).