Back to the Future & the Beer Born Ballet Hippo

As promised the Dark Pig and I took leave of you all on Saturday night to partake of some pints at a local joint that was but a kidney stone throw away from his pig pen, what we didn’t expect was that they had somehow turned the pub into a time machine without telling either of us or alerting the media for that matter. I’m all about riding the retro bus (hell, I still spin records, wear Aviator sunglasses and have sideburns that’d make Priscilla Presley drip like a faucet) but what we encountered as we strolled through the pub was unlike anything either of us had ever seen, an honest to oatmeal interactive 80’s experience. In my last post I mentioned “Weird Science” and Anthony Michael Hall, well unbeknownst to me; we had somehow found a portal back to that very time – 1985. Hair piled to the ceiling fans, unlaced high top sneakers, Leopard print Lycra, slouch socks and a waitress in leg warmers… and I said “pardon”? Had we been less intoxicated we may have made plans to turn the place into an 80’s theme park, kind of like Jurassic Park but with stronger fencing to keep the bar bimbos and grease monkeys away from the tourists. Our mouths fell agape at the display before us, but that was just the beginning.

The Pig and I are keen observers by nature so we found a table that appeared to have the best vantage point of the place and proceeded to pulverize our livers - laughing hysterically at the pickled patrons below like party plankton in a Petri dish. Highlights include seeing a tubby gin blossomed cowboy literally ask every dame in the bar for a “dance”, a cougar in Leopard print top stomping her Peggy Bundy style heels on the hardwood stage floor as if trying to perform some trailer park flamenco and a table full of female fondue flavors with nothing but dudes lined up to dip their berries in the bowl. The Leopard print princess got into a screaming match with her date/parole officer/sugar daddy right in front of us and at one point ran from the pub in tears only to return some time later no worse for wear while her date sat as numbly stunned as the rest of us. I’m not even going to mention her other gal pal who had Lita Ford hair-do and just as much luck with the man at her table. Scary shit.

Speaking briefly to the guy and his gal beside us about a woman that looked suspiciously like David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) from “This is Spinal Tap” we were astonished to find that they were just as shocked that we’d all somehow ended up in a time warp. “Doesn’t Blondie over there look like David from Spinal Tap?” to which he replied “I dunno, I thought she looked more like Dee Snyder (from Twisted Sister)!” I nearly made a puddle I laughed so hard. So here we were, four folks stuck in some bizarre pocket of twisted time with Dee Snyder’s love child mere meters away.

The sights and sounds of a place transplanted twenty years in the future, very odd indeed but it didn't end there.

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Part II

The pig and I were minding our own business, watching our persistent but portly cowboy try and smooth talk some odd looking female a few tables off when said femme spots us. She blew off the decrepit cowboy and began to approach us, had our knees been less lubricated with wobbly pops we may have made an escape out the window, but we stood fast, perhaps thinking she’d offer us free beer – she did not. We had gathered a few chairs to prop our feet upon and subsequently create a wooden wall between us and… well, everyone else, but this broad just up and takes my chair, sits her bulbous ass upon it and begins to speak; “Moo” – (it could have been “Hi”). “Howdy” I say and we strike up a conversation about horny cowboys and would she have let him calf rope her if he were thirty years younger or had she skulled a schooner of Looser Lager upon his bow legged approach. Somehow we chat with this person for a few minutes (perhaps still waiting for free beer to appear) when this other lassie saunters over to the table. We realize in tandem that the cowboy should’ve held out for this woman, she had a face like Mr. Ed the talking horse, perhaps his prairie perversions would’ve flown with her but even cowboys have standards I suppose, and no one would want to see him ride this filly off into the sunset (not unless it was off a cliff).

All went well I suppose (no beer arrived and our pints were dry) until Mr. Ed started to talk about how much she puked the night before and what it was she had “lost”, the pig and I exchange glances – we must plan our escape. The other party crasher chimes in with a retching tale of her own – to look at her one would suspect that she’d never said no to a meal in the first place much less allow a morsel to flush away into oblivion. We were dumbfounded. The leg warmer wearing waitress comes over and asks if any further drink orders will break-dance her way… wait… wait… no beer (I try my best puppy dog eyes on her - she must be a cat lover - Damn!). We had enough, the Pig put his hoof down and somehow offends Horseface by referencing her vomiting anecdote (something about a piece of toast) and we giggle. She storms off, but the one remaining barnyard refugee starts to tell us that she’s also a dancer after we comment on the waitress’ attire choice and we pretty much lost it and made a break for the exit.

Aside from Disney's Dancing Hippos in Fantasia, there’s no real need to examine that evening any further except to say that I spend far too much time with farm animals, know far too much about the toilet habits of two complete strangers and had a really great time.

Am I the only person still alive that wanted to bone a Solid Gold dancer?

iPod played "Bowling for Soup - 1985" while posting