Kicked Out

[Martin Hash]

My wife, Gwynne, and I go dancing a 2 to 4 times per week at live music venues. We’ll dance to anything but classic rock is our favorite, of course, since we both grew up on it. Over the years, we’ve became somewhat infamous for my outrageous dancing for an old guy combined with her equally noteworthy offbeat style. We also try to dress similarly. I go a little over-the-top with bolo ties, a variety of fedoras, bright-colored shirts, snake-skin silver pointed boats, and tight vests. Let’s just say my reputation precedes me. We revel in our notoriety, enjoying the spotlight, but there are some drawbacks; I’ve been kicked out of bars 5 times in the last 5 years. Most people never get kicked out of a bar in their lifetime.

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Dancing Costume

People naturally think there must be a reason; sometimes there is, sometimes I chalk it up to ridiculous masculine posturing because I’m a prominent local figure. The first couple of times was during the shamdemic. We were already in an odd situation; dancing in a club during lockdowns, you’d think the bouncers were already compromised. Plus, consider who the clientele would be; club-goers like me who refused the jab because it was an obvious scam, who knew the mask and spacing requirements were full-on bullshit. However, that didn’t stop two overzealous enforcers of rules to toss Gwynne and me out on the otherwise empty street; out of the literally dozens of clubs we went to during that time. A third instance during that unforgivable time was only averted because our server intervened, instead kicking out the couple causing all the raucous about me not following their contrived rules. He was saying he was “in healthcare.” I responded with “I’m a doctor.” Another time I got through out of the Indian casino dance hall because, I think, too much flamboyance as perceived by the female head of security. She couldn’t even justify why the 4 of us, me in the lead, were escorted out of the building.

The fifth time happened just this weekend at the Moose lodge. I don’t like going to fraternal-sponsored events because of the arcane membership requirements and inflated sense of importance because of it, but we were invited to see our band friends. Unfortunately, the woman at the door denied our entrance. She didn’t stop anybody else from coming in, just me in my trademark dancing getup. We were already headed out to our car when the drummer intervened and got us in the show; hell, they even had chairs for us already. Once inside, I couldn’t even buy a drink.

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Moose Lodge