Another vodka stinger

Another reason not to move, another vodka stinger

Another reason not to move
Saturday night out in Atlanta. We started off with a walk up to a nearby bar and restaurant called Einstein’s, which was next door to Joe’s on Juniper. The rain had recently stopped although there were still some dark clouds in the sky so the terrace was empty and we headed inside. Einstein’s had a funky feel to it, the bar and restaurant both fairly busy. The only thing ruining the ambience was the TV screen showing some baseball game. It was something that I had noticed a lot on my travels. No matter how posh the restaurant seemed to be there would invariably be a screen showing some sort of sport. I have no idea about the rules of baseball but I kept finding myself looking at the screen.

We were shown to a table and told that our waitress, Erica, would be over shortly to take our drink order. Erica duly turned up, introduced herself and took our drink order. The place did $5 martinis so it seemed rude not to try one of those. Erica went off to get our drinks. Another waitress came up to our table a minute later, introduced herself as Erica and asked if we would like some drinks. George and I looked at each other a little puzzled. We explained that the other Erica had already taken our order. It seemed bizarre that in a small place that only had two waitresses they would both be called Erica. In the end Erica #2 ended up being our waitress for the evening. I had pot roast ravioli, recommended by both George and Erica #2. I would recommend it too. We also had a second round of martinis. I left the restaurant feeling very full.

After dinner we made our way to Blake’s On The Park, the local gay bar, to meet up with Anthony, a friend of one of the guys I had met during my travels. He had read about my trip & told me to let him know when I was in Atlanta if I wanted meet up for a drink. As we headed toward the place George explained that it would be easier to use the back entrance. I refrained from making the obvious joke. We made our way to the bar to get ourselves a drink & then did a tour of the place to see where the hot guys were, so we knew where we should stand. This walk round is what George called a “fruit loop”. Blake’s was split over two levels. The back bar and patio area we both fairly full, the downstairs bar was heaving.

I asked George whether he had a “type” and he told me the sort of guy he would normally go for. I told him I would keep my eyes peeled and was happy to act as his wingman should he see anyone who caught his eye. Anthony arrived with a friend of his and the four of us chatted for a while. I was asked about my travels so I reeled off the list of places I had been to so far and where else was on my itinerary. They asked what our plans were for the evening. Anthony gave George a few other suggestions rather than the country dancing but I said I wanted to experience that as I wasn’t sure I would get the opportunity again.

Another vodka stinger

Atlanta used to have its own gay country dancing bar, the 3 Legged Cowboy but it had closed down a few months earlier. Now the local cowboys and cowgirls had to make do with a special evening every Thursday and select Saturdays at Heretic. Luckily today was one of those select Saturdays. We made our way to Heretic. The country music was audible as we approached. Inside was relatively quiet, compared to the busy Blake’s on a Saturday night. There were several people up on the dance floor, all doing the same moves to the song that was playing. Seeing two guys dance together like that reminded me of the few times I had been with friends to see the gay & lesbian ballroom dancing back home at the Rivoli Ballroom.

There were a couple of full on cowboys in attendance – cowboy boots, jeans, checked shirts & cowboy hats. A somewhat over-friendly gay came over to us and started chatting away. I assumed George knew him. I was wrong. He asked if I wanted to dance but I explained that I wouldn’t know what I was doing as it was my first time. The guy was insistent, egged on by George telling me to go dance, but he eventually gave up. He went off to dance on his own and judging from the moves he was throwing on the dance floor he was high on something other than life. I told George I would get him back for not coming to my rescue.

We stayed for a couple of drinks. I spent a few of my remaining dollars hoping that my bankcard would miraculously be working in the morning. George headed out for a cigarette so I went with him, not wanting to risk being left alone at the side of the dance floor. As we headed back in the DJ started playing “Ooh Aah…Just a Little Bit” by Gina G. It was most unexpected to hear such a Eurovision classic being played at a country evening. Apparently though it has a good beat for line dancing to.

We decided to move on to our final venue for the evening, a big dance club over the road called Jungle. As we walked in I knew there would be no risk of them playing Gina G in here. The place was packed, the music loud and a lot of the men shirtless. I told George that I would be keeping my top on and relayed to him the story of my one excursion into topless clubbing in Provincetown from the month before. My ears soon got used to the volume of the music. It wasn’t really the sort of music that I would normally dance to. It didn’t have words for me to sing along to. However, we made our way to the dance floor and found ourselves a spot. A short time later a space opened up on the large podium in the middle of the dance floor and we somehow ended up dancing on it with several other people for a while. I think it might have been my first ever time dancing on a podium. I am sure my friends will let me know if I have forgotten some previous drunken exploits on a podium.

“Another reason not to move, another vodka stinger” 
Lyrics from The Ladies Who Lunch from the musical Company