The LOUD Night @ Wayne's Honky-Tonk (Part VI)

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I’ve crammed myself into a corner. (Story of my life.) Somehow, I feel even more alone than I did at Complex Cosmo. Could be, maybe, that Wayne’s is too bright for a late Friday night. 

Everybody here is in clear, or clearer, groups — albeit groups grouped in very close proximity to one another. In a way, it’s reminiscent of high school cliques at lunch hour — minus the beer. Or maybe I’m just too sober to be out and about at this hour. 

The group I walked in with has scattered. Nico is busy making or renewing acquaintances. Zen and Lass disappear around a distant corner. Larr is over by the Bongster and the Bongster’s bro. The three of them lean against the bar. A little while later, they relocate to the other side and lean on it over there. 

Along with all the others not engaged in chit-chat or lip-locks, I’m gawking at the couples who shuffle-step out on the honky-tonk platter. I’m seeing myself as one such shuffle-stepper. Videlicet, that guy too ugly to be swaying with that gal too pretty. Maybe she’s plastered. Maybe, also, she’s desperate to be pedestaled. 

I abandon my seat and squeeze through the stupors, back to where Zen and Lass watch the good old boys shoot pool. Lass’s got her quarters stacked for the next game. Here, at least, there’s some room to breathe in something other than the beer-soaked exhales of everybody else. 

Take a look at the man and woman crammed into that corner over there. See ‘em? They could be your parents’ age. She’s perched on a stool. He’s sort of standing behind her. Watch her take a nip of Bud. See? That’s his cue. He grabs her face and crushes his lips against hers. It’s a cue because he does it after every nip she takes. She must be into it, too, seeing that she nips something like every ten seconds. And, each time — watch. To get to her lips? He’s got to wrench her neck around. I’ll bet you she passes out before he gets her to wherever they end up. Not that it will alter his plans. 

Time well spent. 
Or should I repunctuate that with a question mark? 

Ah, but then there’s this: “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” That’s Nietzsche. So is the Big Nietz saying that I’m deaf? 
2 October 2004 

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