(I had good reason to be worried! How would Emmett get enough to eat?!)
The girls and I were meeting at a bar called The Lincoln Lounge. My mouth kept wanting to say "Lincoln Logs" so it always came out "Lincoln Lodge." The Lincoln Lounge is an Abraham Lincoln-themed hipster joint. Along the dirt parking lot is a simple white mural with an old-fashioned pistol motif. In the middle is a giant wanted poster for "THE MURDERER" with a picture of John Wilkes Booth.
Despite my best efforts to arrive fashionably late, I was still the first one there. It was dark, but the main room was small enough that I knew the girls weren't there. I sat down in an antique armchair by a coffee table. The other chairs in the cluster were occupied by a group, so I did lame things to look less alone. I messed with my phone, went to the bathroom, and stared up at the walls.
It had red and silver saloon-style wallpaper. Up behind the bar was a series of shelves full of mugs. I had read earlier on Google Maps about this. Apparently, if you get around to sampling all 50 beers on their list, you get a mug with Abe's profile on it. However, you don't just take it home. It gets put on the shelf above a plaque with your name on it to use every time you come in.
I looked up at a caricature of Lincoln with big ears, and his bow tie caught my attention like an old friend. "Huh?! How is that possible?" I thought. "Where have I seen that type of bow tie before?" Then I realized that it wasn't a type of tie, but a certain tie. Abraham Lincoln wore a bow tie for a photograph, and that one photograph is probably the best portrait of him that we have. The artist must have looked at that picture when painting this portrait. While Lincoln's features were distorted and exaggerated, his tie was drawn exactly right. I once did a drawing of Abraham Lincoln made from his quotes. I had spent a lot of time staring at his picture once. It was six years ago, but once you draw something, it will never look the same to you again.
Two girls arrived. Katie, who organized the outing, and Holly. Another Katie from church was already there. It turned out that Katie and Holly had never been to this bar before, and they deemed it too shady for a girls' outing. We were going to go somewhere else instead. The other Katie is the type of person who is so friendly that she knows everyone. In a bar of only 30 people, she probably knew at least 5. Katie went to pry Friendly Katie away from her conversations so we could go.
Holly said, "There're other people from church here! It must not be too bad." (We left anyway, but her comment confirmed our status as a "hipster church" and this as a "hipster joint.")
We went to a casino instead. As a resident of Reno, you have to see casinos as venues. It's like a giant, brightly lit mall, only instead of department stores, there are various clubs, restaurants, and shops. All the empty spaces (on certain floors) are filled with slot machines and game tables. If you were to look at Reno's skyline, you can see the giant sphere building. That's where we were.
We went to club Aura, which was a chic bar with a cool interior. All class was lost, however, when we saw the TV screens. They featured lady silhouettes dancing... not unlike a moving itunes ad. It was pretty empty. Some of us got a drink, Friendly Katie saw someone she knew, and then we left.
The girls wanted to go to a place called Brew Brothers, but the line to get in was really long. Near the line, we watched some fat girls get into an all-out cat fight. A security guard from the casino and a bouncer from the bar escorted them away while the crowd cheered and laughed. It felt like high school. We skirted around the aftermath: some angry friends, spilled ice, and a missing shoe. Then we decided to find a place to eat because I was hungry enough to eat casino food.
At the restaurant, we discussed life and where God was leading us. We prayed for the busser who looked like she was having a really bad day.
We did head back over to Brew Brothers because Katie was really hoping to dance before the night was over. I wished for bowling or a movie instead, but that was just because I'm a lame dancer. It was low-key, though, and lots of fun. One young guy kept looking my direction. I could tell he and his friend were on the prowl, hoping to make some new friends. Sure enough, they made their way over, and one guy introduced himself to Friendly Katie. The music was too loud to hear anything, but I saw them shake hands. This was a strictly no-guys-allowed outing, so she did the subtle "I'm a jerk." act. She said something in Holly's ear, turning her body to close off our tiny circle once again. It was a perfectly played rejection without having to make eye contact. I felt sorry for the guys who looked dorky and friendly, but if they were hoping to pick up chicks that night, she saved them some trouble. We were only in that club long enough to dance for a couple songs, and when we left, I found out what Friendly Katie had said to Holly: "I told him my name was Patty!"
1 comment:
Poor guy! He probably thought she said, "My name is Fatty."
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