golden showers and whiskey sours

oh boy, a lot has happened in a week. i covered for a friend so i worked three shifts. there's a lot to talk about, so hop on that hog in the rear view mirror and ride that sweet wave of man.

one of the nights this club had no music. how terrible! not only do i have to stay in the bathroom, but now i can't even jam out to anything while i wait around. i'm freaking out, i start pacing jumping up and down, running in circles, it's always very awkward when i'm mid some particular mindnumb cure all move and someone walks in. after i tire myself out, my boredom evolves into singing songs to myself. also pretty awkward as people walk in...

"hey, how's it going, dude?" I ask.

"alright, man," he says with little conviction.

"yeah, dude, what's up with no music? how the hell do they expect to get people here? i'm going crazy," I complain.

"yeah i hear that," he says.

"i was pacing and shit, but now i've started singing to myself. it's kind of awkward when the door opens and i'm like 'doo da doo...no i wasn't singing mariah carey while emulating her poses. *cough*"

"haha, yeah but that one mariah carey song is the shit, man."

"hell yeah, she's got some good stuff. what's the one you're thinking of?"

"fuck, i dunno. it was a single...i can't place the melody or remember the words, though."

"damn, man i was thinking of one when i said that, but now i've lost it."

"dude, we gotta figure out what this song is, it's gonna wrack our brains!"

"haha, yeah, was the melody like...*proceed to try to bust out something between honey and fantasy.

"nah, man, we're so close though."

"alright, alright, alright," i say frantically, "we've got this. was the melody 'doo do do dum doo doo doo da doo da dum?"

"that's the one! fuck yeah!

"what's the song called?"

"aw c'mon man, don't push it. we both got the melody!" we proceed to sing it together.

"and then! it's like 'yoouuu and i will always beeee...."

he blows up the lead vocal track "youuu andd iii youuu andd iiii"

"oh don't you know you can't escape me..." i look for him lost on the words.

"...cause you will ,always be my baby!"

"YEAAH, that's it! and we'll linger onnnnn.... fuck yeah dude! you're the man, that was the shit!

"fuck yeah that's the shit," he says, "don't let people hate on mariah, or you for liking her, she's awesome."


a while later, a man walks up and small, intricate, 'chemical-like' tattoo peaks out under his sleeve on his right wrist.

"hey man, that's a pretty nifty tattoo," i say, "what is it?"

"oh, it's a dopamine molecule."

"oh, cool, what does that do?"

"well," he begins, "dopamine controls all your motor functions and allows you to make smooth movements. my grandma had parkinson's disease, so this is kind of a tattoo for her."

"that's cool," i say.

"dopamine also controls a lot of your emotions, and personality and stuff, so it's pretty cool."

"definately," i say.

"your dopamine receptors are also effected," he chuckles, "if you do any psychotropic drugs like mushrooms or LSD."

"ooohh haha, so it's a grandma and tripping tattoo, very nice. or is it a tripping grandma tattoo ;)?"

"haha," he chuckles, "it's versatile."

after he leaves another patron walks up to me with a huge grin on his face.

"what the fuck, man? where else are you gonna learn all this random shit about someone? now you know his grandma had parkinsons, that he knows a little about brain chemistry, and that he's done or does do crazy drugs. in like 2 minutes, you know all this crazy shit about this random person you don't even know!"

"yeah, man, this job is nuts. people talk about some crazy shit in here," i say.

"alright, dude, the craziest thing you've seen, GO!"

"shit, dude, thassa tough cookie. hrrm...i wore a skirt in here last week, but that wasn't as crazy as i thought it would be...uhhh...this guy mooned me once...alright alright i got it. one time these two guys were pissin and one look right over the partition just starin at his boy's junk!"

"he what?"

"oh yeah dude, just vibin on it for like 15 seconds, not even tryin to hide where he's spyin, and then he just goes into this kinda mopey tone...

'damn dude, next to yours my dick is tiny!'

"no way...." he says in disbelief

"fucking, way, dude, and i swear they forgot i was even there. so i'm just smoking trying to keep quiet as his friend just kind of comforts him..."

'nah, dude, don't worry about it, you get mad girls, you're alright.'

"hahahaha whoa," he says.

"haha yeah and he's not trying to be patronizing but i mean what can he do? this dude just like set himself up there's really nothing you can do. you could lie, but assuming the other dude has a super cock or whatever i mean he ain't gonna believe that. so eventually, man i just crack up, and they turn around, they're in shocked!"

'oh, shit this bathroom guy thinks we're gay!'

"...and shit man, they needed me to know they were straight, and i don't give a shit, man"

"yeah," he says, "i could give two fucks about anyone's shit."

"yeah man, i say, "and they're all handed me money 'we're straight we're straight' and i'm tryin to tell em that it doesn't matter to me, and that i see crazy shit like this all the time and it's all gravy, but they won't leave till they tip me 5 bucks!"

"hahaa, that's pretty wild man," he says.

"nothin out of the ordinary, though," i say as he walks out, "be easy man."

"you too!" he shouts as the door closes.

there are good times, though, when someone makes a solid effort to squash homophobia, or at least let me know they don't support it.

"yo, pimpin, what's good?" one says.

"i'm chillin, man, can i get you anything?"

"yeah yeah yeah, we both need to get a spray."

"alright, you got it."i recommend this (Le Male by jean paul gaultier). a lot of people knock it cause it's a dudes body and they think that's gay or some shit, but they're idiots. this shit smells so nice. it's the best one we've got."

"hell yeah, that's dank, dude" he says. "and that shit is just plain ignorance!"

"you're telling me," i say.

"we 'preciate it, boss, you have a good one."

"thanks, ya'll, you have a good one as well."

a 6ft plus dude walks out of the stall and up to the sink. he looks at the colognes skeptically.

"pfft, nah, i got my own scent!" He proclaims. He then takes his hand and waves over his chest and lower torso.

"i've been brewin it all day, baby" he says.

"hey man, some people dig that au naturale! ;)"

one of my regular bathrooms has two urinals of different height. one is at about 'average' crotch spot for guys and the other is much lower. it's the 'kiddie' sized urinal as it has been dubbed by a lot of patrons.

as both are being used, the guy at the low one complains, "man what the hell is this shit. i feel like i'm 'bout to piss on my shoes or somethin'"

"at least you don't get all that back splash," his friend responds.

"it's just weird, if i'm peeing this low it's usually into a girls mouth!"

i laugh.

"dude, gross, thanks for the imagery," his friend complains.

"nah, it ain't gross, if she's into it you definately gotta oblige, right?" he asks, turning to me.

"definately, dude, if i'm with someone and they want to do weird shit, whatever man, i'll do that shit. if she's into getting peed on, or peein on i don't give a fuck. you gotta step up and get down on some weird shit sometimes," i say. "i looove raisinets, i'll eat em out of an ass crack," whatever!

"you see? this man knows whassup!"

"yeah, man," i say, "when it comes down to it, everybody is into weird shit i imagine. you just gotta give it up."

"eh, i think i draw the line at peein in some girl's mouth," his friend says, "i don't think i could do it."

"well," he says, "that's why i'm getting all of em at the club, and you're on lock by some chick who's out of town."

"fuck you, bro, man dating sucks."

"hey," i say, "when you got it you hate it but when you don't, you want it" *shrug*

"ain't that the truth, be easy man," one of them says as they leave.

"have a good night, ya'll."

following their exit, this guy comes out of the full stall, kicking the door open and pushing his chest out. *crasssssshhhhhhh*

"nah, dude, if a girl asks me to pee in her mouth, i say alright i'm cummin in your ass."

"hey man, do your thing," i say cracking up.

the man on lock is a classic dynamic. no man will complain more about not getting any at the club than the man who's there with his girlfriend.

"man," he says, "this girl keeps dancing on me, and then lookin at my girlfriend and my girl is just giving me the evil eye! fuck dude!"

"shit, man, being locked down at the club is rough," i say, "i bet shedances with other guys."

"if she does, i'll be pissed!" He exclaims.

"alright, so it ain't like that, but what about this other girl?" I ask.

"damn man, she was friends with me before i started dating my girlfriend. we've always been flirty, but nothing crazy, and now whenever i go out with my girl she's all over me! it's fucked!"

"damn, man, and your girl don't dance with you?"

"not when she's all pissed off at this other chick!"

"so this girl who your friends with is giving you love, and your girlfriend ain't. fuck man, maybe talk to her about loosenin up, try and get em both or do an open relationship?"

"nah, she won't go for that."

"you gotta work something out. if your friend who you flirt with is grinding on you, and your girl ain't blowin you up, maybe it will work itself out."

"nah, i dunno, i don't WANT the other girl, i want my girlfriend."

"true, true, well it's gotta be rough getting danced on when you can't dance back. all that hot loving in your dead in the water."

"yeah," he says, handing me a dollar.

"thanks, man" i say, "you wanna cu--*cough* err gum for that?"

nekbromancer

this guy enters the bathroom. he's already tipped...

'sup dude?'

'my friend says that i've got some comb over action goin on. says if i fix it this chick'll be crazy about me.'

'yeah?...i wouldn't call that a comb over, but i see what he's saying. got some gel if ya want it.'

'nah, that's alright. gel gives it that wet look, i don't really like it.

'haha, as you use water to style your hair...'

'ah whatever, i don't really care about her opinion, i'm just doin' this for my boy anyways. she'll sleep with me regardless.'

'hmm...well if you fix it just right maybe you can get with him too...'

check your bias at the door...

ya know, a lot of people, upon encountering their first bathroom guy, ask "why aren't you working the women's bathroooom? that's gotta be where it's at!" it does always make me chuckle. i always retort with, "nah, i suspect most women don't carry cash. that's what you're here for."

plus, every guy in here keeps gooooooooin on and on that there are no cute girls out there, and as soon as one sets her cute self in here, you yell at her! i'm pretty sure they'd do the same thing to you, if you walked in, and it would be way to hard to break the dynamic for me.

"alright, alright maybe so..."

"oh i know so baby, and the things is, you don't want girls in here. cause this is where you wanna fuck with your boys. man flirt a lil bit, it's all good. that's probably what they're doing in there." *shrug* "the best thing is, when the girls do come in here and you guys aren't in here. cause then i can flirt like crazy. they can dig it, because i'm making them comfortable in an otherwise uncomfortable space, and they know it isn't real. since they know that i'm working, i can say 'sup girl, you need a condom, or a smoke for later ;)" and they'll laugh.

one time this lady waved me over in the girls bathroom. i stayed put, because my set up was there, but told her to come into the boys. 'it's cool, there's a stall. ;)' she walks in and gloats all over about how cute i am in my bow tie. 'take a shot with us booooy' "bring it into the bathroom and i will..."

once a woman and her 3 pronged possie told me i look like a stripper...

"haha, thanks, so do you..."

"are you gay?"

"...ya know, as gay as i need to be to get a tip ;)"

they walk away.

"i knew it, he's suuuuuuuuch a faggit!"

i check my pack of lights. i've smoked half, goddamn it.

it's been pretty suprising how open i am about being queer at this job. on my second shift ever i was terrified. the bathroom was set up so that there was a whole nother room for stalls and urinals than the wash room. that meant as i said hello to people as they walked in, i also got a look at their back[side]. 6/10 times they said something about some faggot. i got worried. now though--maybe thanks to a bit of drink--it kind of just comes out of me. this guy came in one time, we struck up a conversation and i immediately knew he was queer. as we're chatting he avoids a phonecall.

"ugh...my boyfriend won't leave me alone!"

"oh yeah?" I ask, quite surprised he confirmed my suspection.

"yeah, he wants to go down town, but i don't wanna do the fag thing tonight. i just wanna chill here and get drunk."

"hell yeah dude, my experience with gay clubs hasn't been the best. are you alright at bars like this? no one really fucks with you or anything?"

"nah, i do fine...i'll be back with your g&t soon."

"see you then..."

the man from the previous post, who came out to me at the end of the night, avoids my gaze. i can usually get a head bob or wave from most of the people that recognize me, but not from him. i wonder if he worries about me outing him? the last time i was at that bar, it was country night. someone told me, "hey when i go to wash my hands i'll do it." this is a common response from people who seem to feel wierd about not tipping, or maybe just weird about someone helping them do such an easy task. the only thing is, people suck at it. i do it all night, for multiple people at once. i am so much faster than you could ever hope to be. i explain to this man that he'll just be slowing me down and make my job harder, but her persists.

"nah, i can do it man. i refuse to let you wash my hands. you're doing a job that i can do myself."

"i know you can do it...."

"nah, i can't let you do a job that i can do. if someone else is doing a job that you can do yourself, than they're doing a nigger's job."

"yo, fuck you. get the fuck out of my bathroom."

"what? i didn't say anything"

"i'm black."

"nah, you ain't dark enough...."

"look at me! fuck you, and GET OUT!"

"ah man, i didnt...i said nigga"

"no, you didn't...and even if you did, you can't say that, you're white."

"ah i'm sorry, i didn't mean to offend..."

"no one ever does..."

"...and i'm not racist i work with people of all races..."

"you may not be racist, but what you said is..."

"now get out of fuckin bathroom"

he reaches into his wallet after telling me he has no tips all night. four dollars suddenly appear.

he places it in the tip plate and apologizes once more as he leaves. i feel that i shouldn't take it, but i've made $11 tonight. i pack up my shit and leave. i hate white supremacy.

i wonder about having to affirm blackness for people to take their racism in my presence seriously. i'm of anglo saxan and cuban descent. there might be some black in there somewhere, and i ususally have positive racial conversations with other people of color. most start with the question "are you black?" some of have said i have a unique vantage ponit to fight racism, but i'm not sure if affirming an ethnicity that i'm unsure of is the right way to do it.

just oneuh them days, don't take it personal

I grunt as i carry my supplies to this musty bathroom. I cross the threshold and the stench of stale urine and cigarettes chokes me out. "Ughhhh..." I do my best to maintain balance as i dodge piss puddles. it's like i'm playing in aftermath of a rainstorm. my stomping grounds is a dank, terribly ventilated, stale bathroom resurrected back to life by a piss monsoon. tonight's gonna be great, i can feel it.

i'm not supposed to smoke in this bathroom, fuck. i must mask the smell. i have plenty of calogne, but that's like pouring perfume on a pig.

first guy comes in.

"how's it going dude?"

"it'll be going much better in a second."

...

"aaahhhh" i avert my eyes as he relives himself two feet from me. i grab for the soap, as he grabs for the flush handle. flushhh! a flash flood of urine careens over my shoes and sprints for the front door.

awesome. i'm standing in piss, working for shit and i'll have to remind drunks not to flush over and over and over and...

all night people are coming in saying "you work here?! you're better than this job!...this job must suck. etc."

i've learned to get used to the homophobia, because most of the time it is the way these guys flirt with each other. most of the time it is not really hateful, it's just the only way they can be sweet to each other.

"look at this faggot right here!" guy points to his friend and puts his arm around me.

"have you ever seen a bigger faggot, dude?"

"uhh--i don't uh- o_O..."

"this guy can take a mean dick!"

"fuck you, bitch i'll bend you over any day!" he responds with authority.

"haha, no really though me and him are gonna smash some bitches tonight!"

"fuck yeah dude, you look really good. this is gonna rule!"

"you look really good too!"

*bam*

in the half second of the last dialogue, their vocal tones, and body language changed. a tiny peak into the parts of their psyches that seemed to want to 'smash' each other. i take a deep drag on a cigarette and as i let the smoke slowly curly out of the bottom of my lip, i grin: i have an intimate secret.

the rest of my night goes terribly rough. i feel i spoke too soon about homophobia. younger guys are coming in and aggressively talking about how i have the worst job in the world, how they can hook me up at a mall kiosk selling beepers and i can kiss this bullshit job goodbye. they're all asserting themselves past my personal space, making it terribly difficult for me to offer soap and push calogne and cigarettes.

eventually, i crack. "yo, i don't give a fuck about your job, you're gonna have to move i can't do mine" "well fuck you then, faggot bitch!"

towards the end of the night i'm crushed. people have treated me like shit all night, i've made no money and i feel i'm so close to punching someone. i hope i don't go off on anyone. then, this big beefy dude comes in, i'm positive he works here, and i'm apprehensive because he gave me shit the night before.

"hey, how's it goin' dude, can i get a cigarette?"

"it's goin' man, pretty bad, you got it, what kind you want?"

he grabs a light and reads my face and body language. as i light up with him he begins...

"dude, don't let these guys get to you. they're shit. you're working, and you need to own that. these guys aren't doing anything but fucking themselves up."

"thanks, man, i know it's just hard." i struggle to let this guy in. since my first experience with him was tense, i'm not too keen to let my guard down, especially considering what is getting to me most is how homophobic all the patrons were. i know this guy is tryin to make me feel better, but he won't be able to make me feel better about that.

as if he knows he's not getting to me positively he repeats himself. "look, man, just know you're working. you've got a job, and that deserves respect. make sure you respect yourself for that, alright?"

"hell yeah, thanks a lot man, i really appreciate it. i've just had to take a lot of shit tonight, and i really feel like i could punch someone. i feel like sitting in the dark," i say desperately.

"you gotta not let em get to you," he responds, "man i'm a homo guy, you know how much shit i have to take at this job?!"

there it is. i light up, and i'm off. a ball of energy that cannot be stopped. "oh my god, dude, the homophobia in here is killing me! it's all these younger cats, man they're so fucking aggressive, and shit. this isn't guys being friendly between each other, most anyways--they're all trying to dominate this space and it makes me want to scream! fuck. i never thought i'd be able to safely talk to someone about this in a bar..."

he puts his right hand out, and i mine and we firmly shake. he drops a 20 in my tip jar. "keep your chin up, man."