take me to the Other Side -- not!

This here's a tale of some frinds who were duped.

There was a closet homosexual, or at least I didn't know he was at the time and an openly bi-sexual woman (her tale will be told later, hopefully through the many sources MR, Scott, Monkeyjack, & others, maybe).

These people I will give -- pseudonyms: Fred and Wilma
Monkeyjack was with me when Fred mentioned there was bar that people 18+ could enter. I thought it odd, but went along with it. It was downtown, which should have been a clue. Wilma drove in her compact manual.

We arrive at The Other Side. This wasn't too secretive if you knew the inside. We walk up to the door, several couples are leaving. One runs out and effeniantly calls out, "Wait! I forgot my purse!" This guy was a fellow graduate whom many thought was gay. It turns out that he certain was at this time in his life.

We enter -- I was homophobic and rather nasty about my dislike and pronounced hate of gays. All step further didn't make the night better. Fred paid, then Wilma paid the cover charge.
Monkeyjack walked up and dolled out a $20. It was at this time that the cashier was clearly high. He made no response to the $20. Slowly, he recognized it as money, but had to search 4 minutes to not find change. He asked someone near him for change. It was painful to wait for the stupid guy.
I walked up and handed him another twenty. Forgetting that he looked before, he routinely looked in the same places, and also had blank periods on non-movement. Finally he called over someone for change, having not found enough in the cigarette box in his sleeve (50s look).
We proceed and Fred hands each of us a drink.

What the ____ is this, I thought. I held it not wanting to drink it, thinking that getting drunk wasn't the wisest of choices. The further we went, not a well kept place, by any means, we go to the main room, somewhat divided into seating and dancing.
We sat.
I looked around and saw, typically people talking and dancing. A guy was dancing by himself wearing a purse, others were group dancing -- charming.
At one table I saw women around my age at that time ... cute, neat

they kiss
[next]
We sit there and I'm very uncomfortable. By now I have slugged the drink and wanted to leave. Monkeyjack, not as uncomfortable as me, wasn't ready to leave. The time we went wasn't random. The floor show started around 15 minutes after we arrived.

Before that, I had to whiz. I wasn't sure about that. I was happy that there wasn't a long line of urinals nor stalls. Perhaps, it was more horrifying. There was a men's and women's. In the mens was an airline size restroom. It had a toilet and an undersized sink. The door had a thin interior door and a screen door. God knows why -- better not to speculate.
The wood door didn't have a lock. I did lock the screen door with the nice hook
With my back / butt to the screen I used the toilet as quickly as possible. Faster, must pee faster!
Stupidly, I felt so uneasy, I pulled out a boxcutter from work ... cutter in one hand, putter in the other. I finished and rinsed in icelandic cold water -- sans soap.

I returned to my seat mortified.
The floor show started. I looked for about ... 2.2 seconds. That was long enough to see a red sequinned something, I think with a blonde wig. I stared at the table for the rest of the time.
Wilma had expounded later on how she was jealous of their legs, these dancers, drag queens.

The lip-syncer was walking around, singing and I understand, nearly sat on me. Monkeyjack grabbed my chair -- saving everyone from a nasty battle scene. At that moment, I didn't mind being Monkeyjack's b____. After that singer, I left asking absolutely no questions -- hurriedly, angerly!
Monkeyjack called after me ... "wait!" I wasn't. "Wait!" No ________ way! He caught up to me with ... importantly, keys!

"Can you drive a manual?"
"Yes." What I failed to complete was "badly, terribly, not really."
I stall it 15 times trying to reverse.
I stall it 20 more times going back to Monkeyjack's house.
I never took it out of 2nd ... ouch!

I would have felt bad about it, except she was a nasty little character ... deceiving, lying, using (more later on "Wilma")

I picked up the two in my car, about 90 minutes later when they called.
Bad evening, but one from which I wasn't hurt or harmed, just scarred a bit.