2000
| Troy is back -
at the bar. Ron and I saw him last Sunday - and we will shoot him tomorrow
- but I am back, on my own I might add, having braved myself up to drive
the big green SUV all by myself through a drawbridge and actually find Troy's
bar, in a corner, behind something. I park. Slightly disoriented because
it is dark. I do not go to bars. This is a first. I do not cruise. Never had the chance. Tonight, I am brave and I want to see what it is all about. I am Shirley Valentine sitting on the ocean front - except my ocean front is indoors. The Baja Surf Club. I am a VIP - I have a card ("Oh. Troy." the guy at the door says.) and pass right in the line (neat) and find Troy at the bar at the left. He serves me water - so my younger son won't be mad at him! I settle on a stool as far out of the action as possible on the corner and take out my notebook. I will stay until it gets busy. Or my head dies from the loud music. Techno-beat. Bump and grind rythym. Loud. Troy takes a break - and he climbs over the bar like an adolescent - all sleek muscle and fluid motion. For a man of his age (late 30's), this is impressive. He works in shorts (bike shorts under denims) and no shirt tonight. He wears a lifeguard whistle - I learn why later. He also uses a baseball cap. To keep his hair out of the way. I am pleased to see he has donned one of the new ones. Ron and I spent all week telling him he can wear color. (You know men - black, white and gray - because it all goes together.) I had been to dinner with Ron earlier in the evening - and he had been in rare form - the week must have finally got to him. He had a number of quips and jokes. We had been to a famous restaurant - I had ordered more tuna - this place is written up all over the place. But we decided that we really liked the Italian place better. It was OK here, but I guess we are tired of eating out. And on the way out of the restaurant, we had encountered two old guys. The plaid shirt type. Pure hicks. This really set Ron off. Now, my father wore plaid shirts, just not with white pants. And if he had a pot, the shirts were big enough to cover it. These two were pushing the envelope. They had on summer shoes. And were standing out in the rain and smoking. Waiting for their RV to pull up. (Valet parking for an RV - common in Florida.) This, for some strange reason, got to Ron. (It was pretty funny - two guys just standing around in the rain, joking and smoking.) After this, while driving back out of the alley it takes to get to this marina-based restaurant, the drawbridge we needed to use to get back to the hotel - was stuck - in the up position. We saw a line (normal), then people getting out of their cars (not normal), then we saw drivers pulling out of the line and U-turning it in droves (very not normal). First we pulled up (where do we go?) and then we decided to follow the herd (while I frantically searched for my map). It was dark, we are from out of town. Not a good time to be lost. However, south of us is the airport - so how far off can we go? The cops had finally arrived to block people from getting on the ramp to the bridge (where we were). We saw them when we had completed our U-turn. Ron decided to just glue himself to the back of one of the cars that had also turned. It took a bit of wild driving (dark streets, one-ways, sharp turns), after all, we are in a big green thing following a black sports car. Ron delivered us to the hotel, and I told them to keep the car handy and ran up to try to call home. But my younger son just squawked the answering machine at me, so I gave up. I'll call tomorrow. He hates to talk on the phone. Hasn't grown out of that yet. I then ran back down and took my turn at the wheel. Driving a big green SUV in high heeled sandals. Whipping back down the street and turning at the street I should have learned by heart. Actually, I learned the landmarks - building under construction, closed Mobil station, turn there. Look for the tall round blue neo building and turn there. Got it. Go past the intersection and turn into the alley and drive forward. I did that, got flagged down to pay $5.00 to park and did just that. So here I sit, proud of myself for finding the bar and managing to get myself inside. The bar is very noisy. I recognize the style of music that my older son likes (and is writing). The bar is not packed (gets that way after 11PM I understand) and the line at the door had been short (they keep a maximum limit enforced). I am properly banded and stamped and sipping my water and watching. I'm here for flavor. Atmosphere. New experience. The pool table - where we shot photos earlier in the week, is in use but not by many people. Guys in jeans and crew cuts are the norm. A few "adults" - mostly kids. Definitely a college night. What I did not realize when I came in was that this is a college night - and $10 gets you in and a free drink. This is a complication for Troy who runs tabs on his customers (and you can get a headache just watching him do that!). Troy is at one of the front bars (there are several) so he gets a line formed up pretty quickly. He has no time to talk or perform, just make drinks by the handful. People look tired. Fraizer runs on the TVs that line the room. From the ceiling hangs a shark, boats, flags and a bikini'd manequin. Tacky decorations. In dim light, they pass. Fake palm trees with strings of lights as if decorated for Christmas is a common decoration in Florida. A siren runs screaming on the dance floor - I can't see the floor from where I sit and I am too timid to move. I did manage to see that it is just about empty at this stage, girls dancing around a bit, guys watching. You can't help but keep time to the music - the beat demands it. By 10:30, business is picking up. It gets noisier. But it is still not crowded. The newly-painted bar top is where we will do tomorrow's shoot. This one where I sit is not so spiffy. The free drink is limited as to what it is - Troy cannot do much performing because of the need to keep explaining what the free drink can be and not be to the line of youngsters coming in. Girls in thongs stand about at the pizza stand and other concessions in the room. What an uncomfortable job! A thong will never get on this body! Another scantily clad girl runs around the room with something on a tray and I just don't even ask what it is. Sort of like the old-time cigarette girl. Troy climbs over the bar for pizza for one of his regulars. I have some of my photos with me. I have a few back. I have such looks on him! Burn up the paper! Troy shows me a $100 tip (his birthday occurred in here) from a blond who likes him. (I think fronting the calendar is enough of a "gift" thank you - even if it is temporary.) I can't complete with the blondes of Florida - too many years on this body. And I', "Mom" aren't I? (Won't live that down. Oh, is he your son??? from the hardware store.) Ron won't let me forget that one! (Neither will Troy!) Oh well! I'm right not to go to clubs - my older son had told me I should. Everyone is young! Too young. I'm the old one here. Yikes! I missed this scene. Like totally! Matt comes in (the one who helped with the wall climbing) - I showed him the few shots I brought with me - I'll give Troy 2 of 3 sets I print off my 6 rolls tomorrow - so he has shots for his mother. I'm still shooting. Ron develops a sample roll from each day's set-up so we can check how we are doing. He'll get the rest developed at home (his lab). All 1200+ shots. I'll need a box for these babies! And I will have to look them all over. After Ron makes a first pick. Calendar. Website. Headshots (for the convention). Posters. Maybe. Another centerfold? Perhaps. Maybe an eCalendar. (Actually, with Adobe Merchant PDF I now can do that!) I will have a lot of homework to do. My head is pounding. The dance floor is filling - my ears hurt - my earrings hurt - it's that time of the month when metal and I don't get along well - so I chuck them. I am glad to be here in a sweater with another sweater over my shoulders. There is a cold breeze and I do loose body heat easily. No coffee in the bar - too bad. Of course, along with the metal thing, my system rejects coffee at this time. And craves peanuts. They aren't here either. During a lull I get to show Troy the photos. Troy's radar for blondes is pretty good. He has a way with the ladies. I see guys we met earlier in the week, some of the girls we met, and lots of young things. Guys favor the pants drooping show-off-your-underwear look - passe in California. Troy scans the crowd for his regulars. More people arrive. It gets busy right about 11PM. There are now four people working behind the bar and a crowd coming in. The dance floor is crowded and each bar has a crowd three deep. I'm now freezing and get into the sweater (twin set) and wish I had on thick pants. Troy has tossed a few glasses around but is very, very busy. Techno is like disco (don't tell them that) - loud pulsing beat that jars the nerves after awhile. Probably tolerable when your three sheets to the wind. Everyone in the bar is checking out everyone else. I find this amusing. The girls are scanning the guys. The guys are scanning the guys too. Some of them. The young ladies are in skimpy tops and pants they were poured into. Mine drape nicely. I don't need to accentuate the thighs thank you. Of course, some of these thighs are far bigger than mine are. I wonder about that. Some fashions don;t work regardless of your age. The room has taken on a buzz. It has quietly filled up. The TV sets play silently. They are part of the decoration - no one is watching. Lights flash. The roar increases. You have to shout to be heard and there is smoke everywhere. It is now 11:07. What is fascinating to me - girls are still dancing with girls and the boys are in clusters. It's been that way all night. I ask Troy about the whistle - he's got it on a big chain. He says it's an attention getter. On that bronze chest - Yeah. I can see that. By 11:15 the dance floor is filled, and the clusters are at the little tables between the bars. The techno music drills on - by now I know it is on a loop and I can recognize the songs. A few girls are dancing on the bar top in the back. I see short skirts, leather, halters, obviously part of the entertainment or else really desperate not to go home alone - or maybe both. I must have missed the lessons. I don't know how to do that. I see my first bar top dancer at the bar closer in. This is a partial strip routine and involves white icing placed strategically on her body (the customer licks it off). I thought this was a lap dance (looked like it) (I've seen one in a movie). (Troy tells me the next day that this is a "body shot" and it costs $20. He also tells me that he does this too. Not tonight however.) Tonight there are a lot of guys demanding attention. Twirling light sticks and flashing spot-lights pick up the pace. Piles of napkins also have a tendency to erupt into the frenzy (I learn later that this signals a "performance"). Troy even had toilet paper on a roller - they launch it as a streamer. Party decorations - Beach style. I need an asprin! Strobes pulse to music and the beat gets louder if that is possible. I recognize the opening to the "Blade" movie. The Matrix makes sense in this world. I've had enough water that I need to get Troy's attention so I can leave my bag and find the rest room. And I want a virgin Pina Colada. The DJ whips up the frenzy. In the restroom I was treated to more of the Silicon princesses in sprayed-on pants - also looking for action. I hurry in and out. I do spot another woman of my age and style - the only other one - so I no longer feel so out of place. Troy shakes me up my "virgin" colada - I had to ask - "You do know what a virgin is?" "I have a vague memory," he says). I had to ask. Made him wince. (I am driving after all - so I am being good) - and one of the girls I photographed on Sunday drops in. She gets to see the pictures. I am actually afraid to go find the car (I always misplace them - even knowing it is E7--- big and green and near the door) and drive out. A lot of these guys are on the road! Do I remember how to get to the hotel??? (No - I actually got lost - but found it by driving in a circle until I had tried all exits - turns out I was one too early. But I did get back.) I will call it quits at about midnight. Cinderella must get some rest. Must get out and drive that green thing home before it turns into a frog. I get treated to a closer view of the bar "dance" and she is strips down to a thong. She is silicon enhanced (it is just too obvious folks) and I get to see just where that whipped cream-looking icing gets placed on her chest and legs. Troy just works around her. The customer gets to, as I said, lick it off and she blows a whistle during this (the lifeguard whistle - aha - they all have them) and napkins go flying and a strobe light gets focused on this performance. I'd have to be really, really broke. And a lot younger. Almost as soon as she is dressed, she is into the routine again. I ate my cherry (amid giggles) and it went down the wrong way - probably because I gasped. I almost choked to death. Who would notice? I've stayed too long. Anymore off of her and I would be totally nonplussed. In the midst of this, a young thing, stocky, plaid shirt, crew cut, must be an engineering student, sits down and strikes up a conversation with me. "Is it always this busy?" "I don't know. I'm from out of town." I am not really paying attention. I just respond because I am talking to all kinds this evening. I'm friendly. I am making notes. He sips his beer and watches me a bit. Then tries again. "What are you writing?" I, not even clear that I am being hit on yet (how drunk is this kid), reply, "Oh. I'm a reporter here to watch Troy." Zing. One body down. Beer man moves off. Troy is in too good a shape for him to even think about completing. OK - I've seen everything. If these kids are hitting on a 58 year old woman who is overweight and tired and looks it, it is time to go home! I made it home in one piece. As I said, after getting lost. (Friday night I got to see Troy do this "body shot" routine. I'm glad it was Friday and the shoot was essentially over. Oh my God! I am so naive. So innocent! I missed all this scene!) (Or did I really miss anything?) |
Copyright 2000 Donnamaie E. White. email to dewhite@best.com