This past weekend we celebrated Jody’s birthday, the crazy Gemini that she is. With the help of Sab’s organizational acumen I planned a night of dining and bar-crawling. This is more daunting than it might sound since neither Jody nor Sab really drink. Phillip, and Courtney were also in attendance. I made reservations earlier in the week at this small restaurant on Lamar, Wink. I thought it would be nice to do something different and go to a place with actual cuisine.
The restaurant was a little over-priced, but everything was good. If I ever go there again it will only be for the dessert course, which I thought was the only exceptional aspect. The entrees were exotic. Sab had rabbit, Jody had short ribs, Courtney had duck breast, and Phillip and I had the game hen with barley and green beans. We ordered a white wine, Torbreck from Australia, which made me remember that although I enjoy its novelty I am not a wine person.
As I mentioned, the dessert was a lot of fun, they brought coffee on a silver platter with a bowl of unrefined and refined sugar lumps. Jody had some sort of rich chocolate cake made without flour, Sab had a raspberry chocolate souffle, Phillip had a lemon custard tart, Courtney had a creme brulee, and I had a goat-cheese miniature cheescake. I had a taste of the creme brulee, which was subtle and creamy.
After dinner we decided to meet up at the balcony of the Stephen F. Austin for drinks. Phillip forgot his ID so he had to run home to get it. By the time he and Courtney got back we were ready to leave since there wasn’t much going on there except for the weathered, tattooed, and tanned motorcycle enthusiasts who seemed to be swarming all over downtown Austin with their ole’ ladies tagging along beside them or installed on the back of their bikes.
We walked down to 4th Street, and we all slowly aimed toward Oilcan Harry’s, the most prominent of Austin’s gay bars, in my mind the most interesting place to go, since I thought it would be neat to get Phillip (who is very conservative) and Sab (who is gay and very conservative) into a gay bar, at least just once. Actually, I think the entire group is composed of straight-laced people.
We were funnelled toward the dance floor in the back where we all stood for a while just watching the writhing dancers and trying to talk. A lot of the men had their shirts off dancing around by themselves, and there was more than one trio of men grinding into each other. Jody and I were easing into one of our simmering disagreements, so I went to the bar to get a couple of Manhattans for Phillip and Courtney. When I came back, both Phillip and Sab were out on the floor apparently dancing. Those were the two people I least expected to dance. I found out later that Sab had dragged Phillip out there, a testament to his powers of coercion. I tried to get Jody to come and dance since I knew she wanted to earlier, but she was still annoyed with me and could not be egged on. It was nice to see Sab dancing and having a good time since he had not been out in a few years.
After a while we walked a couple doors down to 219 West, a place I had never been to that Sab had suggested. I found out why a little later. After waiting in line a little while watching all the wide-chested guidos and their tiny dates stream by we got in and wedged our way to the floor near the DJ. Sab went over to the platform to say something to the DJ and then the DJ got on the microphone and said something about having a special guest in the house and asking if Sab was having a good time. It turns out that Sab is the DJ’s stylist. We all danced around for a while and got sweaty. Dancing is one of those things you do in the moment and can’t imagine or remember really doing later. That’s the way I feel about it.
We stayed there for several more songs until the place closed and the lights came on, then we all walked to Jody’s car and drove down 9th to take Phillip and Courtney back to their car. When we were driving down Red River a truck barely paused at the cross street stop sign and a guy on a bicycle who did not slow down enough ended up smacking the truck on the end as it went through the intersection, wiping out in the middle of the road. The truck didn’t stop probably because they were at least somehow at fault for not stopping completely and also probably drunk. Some people came to the bicyclist’s aid as he rolled around on the ground clutching his hip. Jody wanted my phone to call 911, but someone helping him already had their phone out and dialed, so I hesitated. As in many accidents, both parties could have done something to avoid the accident. The truck did not fully stop and the bike guy was going too fast and not paying enough attention. It was a surprising and violent event, but I felt detached, waiting for something to happen. I’m not one of those people who jump into the middle of situations like that if other people are helping, however I’m also not the type to feign concern or sympathy to soften the guilt of my own hesitancy or inaction. Does that sound like an excuse?