|Blogs > 49AK > Out of the Ordinary|
Lanny's Folly, Part Two
Lanny's Folly, Part Two
(read part one first)
Wandering around a dark club, looking for someone you've never met before is interesting at best, but for a guy, there are all sorts of scenarios you run through in your mind, and more than one ends in a slap across the face. Not that I would be rude, or ever do something that someone would consider offensive. However, in a club, a lot of times the person across from you, their mouth moves, but because of the loud music, what comes out sounds like "Gee you have small tits" or "That guy over there says you can ride for a half hour without breaking a sweat."
I grabbed myself a cocktail, and after a few laps around the club, I had narrowed down my guesses of which person was my friend to two or three. What didn't occur to me then, but does now, is what a great pickup line that could be -- "Hi, I'm Dave, and I am meeting a blind date here... are you her?"
It turned out my first guess was correct. Those first few moments were very awkward, especially since any sentence of more than three or four words sounded like "wow, your tits look even smaller in person!" My new friend introduced me to a few people - Mostly the female half of a couple. Everyone was very pleasant, but apparently pretty involved with what they were doing at the time, which mostly had to do with two couples chatting, or a couple chatting with an unescorted woman. A few people were doing something like dancing, except I am pretty sure it wasn't dancing, or if it was, it was dancing and something else, too.
Needless to say, after about three minutes, the ripple of activity that I had caused when I introduced myself, and I was introduced around, had died down. Not that one could ever hold a deep conversation there at Lanny's -- The place wasn't about conversation. But its hard to feel too comfortable in a place where you have nothing really to say to someone, and even if you did, it would sound like, "Hey, I hear the gazpacho here is excellent."
I decided to partake in the other participatory sport that people indulge in at a dance club, and that is, people watch. It turns out that there was in fact quite a group of people there that night - perhaps as many as 25, and all of them seemed to know each other, at least in passing. I could tell by the waves and smiles, and pinched butts. Surprisingly, I saw very few unattached guys there, though they may have been as invisible as me. When a single gal showed up, that ripple lasted a while.
I began to wonder if my experience here was representative of Amarillo as a whole. Are people here just polite, but self-involved? Is it a matter of sticking around and putting in your time before people accept you? After all, Alaskans are a friendly bunch as a rule, and we'd never let someone feel unwelcome.
Expensive gin and tonics, a cover charge, and a lot of standing around alone made the night drag on. When I finally realized that I would probably have to throw away my clothes because of the cigarette smoke, I was finally defeated enough to leave.
Like lots of things in West Texas, Amarillo is laid out as a grid of straight streets. I didn't really know my way around, but a little bit of knowledge of cartesian coordinates and a grumbling stomach led me to an all-night diner. Oldies played from a boom box next to the coffee pot. The night people were out, and they all seemed to know each other too -- I could tell from the smiles and waves, but there weren't any butts being pinched here, except perhaps of the server woman walking around with a plate of eggs and a pot of coffee.
A song came on the radio, and I whistled and hummed along with it as I sipped my coffee. "We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out..."