Friday, July 14, 2006

Help! I'm Trapped in a Biker Bar!

For those of you who like the image of Sarah sipping on a glass of over priced white wine in some plush hotel lounge, stop reading immediately. Go check out the latest Celebrity Gossip. Or simply close your browser window, shut down your computer and walk away - images of me in my natural habitat intact.

Ok. For those of you still here, don't say you weren't warned...

Last night started out innocently enough. A late dinner (well - late by NC standards. It was only 8:45) at McElrath's, a new American restuarant up in Hickory. Afterwards, the plan was to meet up with our neighbor Carl and his friend. They had gone up to a bar in Hickory to pick up women. Ok - so right then and there I suppose warning lights should have gone off in my head. My neighbor, who drives an 18-wheeler for a living and who introduced me to Zippers, was going out to pick up women. But I suppose I am a little off my game these days. And besides, I am always up for checking out local night life. It makes for good writing.

We met up with Carl and Bruce at a bar called the Iron Thunder Saloon. It's in Hickory, located next to the Harley-Davidson dealership.

For starters, there were more bikes in the parking lot than cars. And I am not talking about overflow from the dealership.

So I've told you about Zippers. Imagine Zippers times 50. That's what Iron Thunder was like. In a weird way it reminded me of a 50s style diners with lots of white formica and strangely blue lighting. But Iron Horse was no Al's and the patrons were not exactly Richie, Potsie and Ralph.

Let me start with our bartender. She was wearing a denim bikini. Well, actually, they were micro short shorts and a bra top (which showed off ample cleavage - one of many accessories most women were sporting last night) but it might as well have been a bikini. In fact, I've seen bikinis with more coverage than what she was wearing. I have to giver her credit - for someone in her 40s, she had a rockin body. But really, a denim bikini? A bleached denim bikini at that.

Besides her boobs, she was sporting a super tan (no doubt hours spent in the tanning bed) and a pair of granny half-moons which she would knock from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose when she rang up checks.

Tans and boobs. That's what many of the women had in common last night.

I would also comment that there was a preponderance of rather large women there. And that the men seemed to be attracted to them. I don't mean that in a mean way. It's more a statement of fact - and continued evidence that this part of North Carolina has more in common with Disney World than most people think.

We managed to get seats at the bar. I didn't even contemplate asking for wine (and that was before I realized all of the drinks - including shots - were served in plastic cups). Instead, I opted for an Absolut & soda - something I was sure wouldn't kill me or make me sick.

My Jackie-O-as-interpreted-by-the-East-Village look definitely stood out in the sea of ultra short skirts and low cut and cropped tops.

I don't know what else to tell you all other than the fact that I was hanging out in an honest-to-God, real life biker bar. And not a little sliver of a place like Zippers. But a biker bar warehouse. A biker bar as interpreted by someone with a marketing degree.

And, to top of the surreality of the evening, en route to the men's room, Marty ran into someone he knew. Yes - we actually knew someone at Iron Thunder. Todd was his name. An old friend of Marty's from growing up in Hickory. All I can say about Todd was that he gave new meaning to the word mullet and I am fairly sure that his hair - bleach blond, flat and spiky on top, long and kinky curls on the tail - had not been updated since some time around 1983.

If that ain't country, I'll kiss your...

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