The diet book I've been following (You: On a Diet) suggests that, if one is a drinker, a single drink of alcohol at the end of the evening meal can promote reduction of HDL cholesterol. To that end, I've been planning to buy a bottle of something (probably gin) to have a sip of at the end of the day.
Last night I thought I'd kill two birds. I'd make the nearest liquor store my walking destination, pick up a bottle, head home, have a nip, and hit the hay. Unfortunately, though I'm not averse to alcohol, I don't often buy it, so I didn't know where the nearest liquor store might be. After a quick Google search, I learned there were two, so I set off to the one that seemed most convenient.
It wasn't long, though, before I started to question my decision. It was about a mile and a half away, and that would be a lot more walking than I really wanted to do. Also, I wasn't sure if the store would be open past 9pm. After a few blocks, my plan changed. I knew there were a few bars and clubs a lot closer to home, so I decided to stop at one of them, have my drink, and toddle on home afterward.
The closest establishment to where I was then was in the back of a strip mall. I walked around and discovered no vehicles in the parking lot. The place was closed. No problem, I thought, the Sheridan Lounge was on my way home (by one route, at least) and they'd been hopping the one time I went there before. As I approached the bar, though, I saw a lone pickup parked off to the side, and again, the place was locked up tight. Is there something about Wednesday nights that makes bars a no-no?
I looked across the street at the Elysium Gentleman's Club, but I really didn't feel like paying a cover charge on top of my beverage cost, and wasn't happy about the idea of adding lustful thoughts to my tally of sins for the evening. I was going to hit one of the Mexican restaurants and maybe get a Negro Modela or Dos Equis, but as I was rounding that corner, I spied about a dozen cars around the entrance of Fusion, a nightclub I've never been to.
I walked up to the Fusion doorway and noted that it was Ladies' Night, and there was no cover for gentlemen before 10:00. Good news. Then I saw the dress code sign. Everything seemed okay, except for one item: No Hoodies. I'd worn my work clothes: black chinos and a collared sport shirt, but I threw a hoodie on for warmth on my expected Liquor Trek. Aha! But I'd also brought along a small backpack. I quickly removed the hoodie, stuffed it in my pack, and walked in.
Now, I haven't been to a nightclub in many years. Since college, in fact. And that was in a relatively small Kansas town. I was ill prepared for the process I was asked to go through. Once I got the attention of the callow youth in the fauxhawk and Staff shirt, I was asked to:
Surrender my bag for a search.
Leave the bag at the desk (why'd they search it, then? Bombs?).
Show my I.D. (not unexpected).
Get patted down.
Get my hand stamped.
To show you how uninitiated I am, this was the first time I realized that there are hidden fluorescent watermarks on Oklahoma drivers' licenses. All this, and I walked into a huge room with three women, half a dozen guys, and about as many employees. I paid $3.75 for a bottle of Guinness, drank it, and left. Five minutes, including a trip to the men's room.
Seemed like an awful lot to go through for one drink. On my way home from my afternoon errand today, I stopped and bought a bottle of gin. From now on, I drink at home.
Oh, 45 minutes of walking, by the way.
Thursday, April 26, 2007