Mutton Dressed As Lamb Part 1.

I went out on Saturday.

Like, OUT, out.

Not meeting up for after work drinks or Taco Tuesday, but full-on, dress-up, try-and-fail-to-apply-fake-lashes out.

C is turning 40 on Tuesday, and we decided to go to DXV.  Unfortunately, DXV was booked, so we settled for CCS and got to sort-of watch drag queens for a bit. (sort of, because the dance floor is the stage, so we could barely see from the back of the room)  We did, however, enjoy thong-and-roller skate guy, golden hot-pants guy, and swipe-your-card-guy (see below) who kept the waistband of his pants a good three inches below the top of his….um…intergluteal crevice (I just used that phrase 2 days ago, I hope it doesn’t become a habit!).

After CCS, we decided to go to Ds.  Line was too long and downtown PDX was like a freezer but with festive arctic wind effect, so we gravitated to the bar across the street with the tented entrance and propane heater sending off a welcoming glow. 

As we were waiting to get in, having our cover generously covered by some gentleman, we noticed this fella giving the cashier an utterly psychotic stare.  He stood a foot away, eyes locked on her, completely ignoring the 6’6’ 300+ bouncer politely asking him to move along.  Another bouncer came out, grabbed Starey by the elbow and encouraged him to leave, asking him what he wanted as he was met with resistance.

What do I want??  What do I want??”, he asked as he slid his hand inside his jacket and started pulling something out….

No lie, I dropped straight down to the ground, heart racing.

After about three seconds, I peer over and see that he has a sock filled with some very heavy objects, and as more bouncers approach him, he begins swinging it around until –THWACK – I don’t know where he hit that bouncer – arm, shoulder, side - -but it wasn’t enough.  Within seconds that dude was being picked up and slammed down on the pavement, each bouncer taking turns, until it was clear there was no fight left in him. 

I am fairly certain that I yelled, “Hey!” really loud when he first started swinging, because merely one block away were about 7 of Portland’s finest, removing barricades from the street.  No dice.  They certainly didn’t hear me yell, and they definitely did not notice the 6 on 1 taking place in the middle of the street just south of them. 

We all kind of stood there stunned, and then C walked up and said, “Okay, I think I want to go back to Vancouver.”

Instead, we decided we may as well go in and check it out, certainly we needed a drink after that display.

Said drink costs $10.  Vodka/soda/lemon in a red solo cup = $10….ummmmm.  Maybe we should have gone back to Vancouver.  

Three 40-ish women in a hip-hop club full of 20ish white kids who didn’t know how to dance?

What could be more fun?

I soooooo wanted to put things down the back of that kid's pants, but not anything I would need back!!