Dear Hanley Market Tavern Regulars:
You sure know how to make a girl feel special. A little bit too special in a zoo exhibit kind of way.
When my friend Nick told me there was a “rough” pub in town that featured karaoke on Monday and Wednesday afternoons, I was agog.
Afternoon karaoke at a “rough” pub?
Yes, please.
Jesse’s Divide was opening for Nashville Pussy in Hanley, so I decided to go.
As they were playing on a Wednesday, I made a little trip to Market Tavern before I met my friend Hannah at the show.
I walked in to someone warbling a song I didn’t recognize. Then I realized it was supposed to be “Let It Go” from “Frozen.” That’s a bad AND good sign. It’s a good sign of bad karaoke.
Perfect.
I got a drink and chose a seat at the back of the bar where I could sit alone and not draw attention. Smart move.
It was in front of the men’s room. Not a smart move.
My first gentleman caller was a man with a fully tattooed face. Think knockoff version of The Enigma.
He asked me if was going to sing.
At least, I think that’s what he asked me.
He could have asked me if he could dismember me in the Gents, and I wouldn’t have known.
He was 102 and drunk with a very thick Stokie accent that was hard for these American ears to understand.
My next new friend was a man with four teeth and four iron cross tattoos. Delightful! He also sported a Confederate flag wristband.
He wanted to know if I had a boyfriend.
I toyed with the idea of saying, “Yes. He’s a Jewish man of color from Poland.” I think I could have made him explode “Raiders of the Lost Ark” style.
An older woman at the next table came over.
Her: Are you alright on your own there?
Me: Oh, yes. I’m fine, thank you.
Her: You’re American!
Me: Yes. What am I doing in the middle of Hanley, right?
Her: Well, yes.
She went to the loo, and I checked my phone for word from Hannah. I suddenly felt hands touching my shoulders. I yelped and turned around.
Creepy George: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.
Me: Well, you did. Please do not touch me.
Didn’t mean to startle me? Someone who doesn’t know you and has her back to you? What did he expect? “Hi handsome! Please come back to my temporary accommodation for stranger boning.”
When I went to the bathroom, I took my drink. Women know why.
Meanwhile, the show went on. It was definitely a crying-in-your-beer kind of vibe.
“I Recall a Gypsy Woman” by Don Williams (!) was about the peppiest thing.
I knew it was time for me to leave when I heard what sounded like Fozzy Bear singing “Love on the Rocks.”
Leaving was cemented as a plan when my last gentleman caller insisted on a conversation:
Him: You’re an American.
Me: Yes.
Him: You’re drinking Guinness.
Me: Yes.
Him: I’m going to get you one, and I’m going to talk to you.
Me: (checks watch) I’m leaving in three minutes.
Him: Then I’ll take three minutes of your time.
My lady friend heard this exchange. “It’s because you’re new in here,” she said.
Yes. It was like Fisher Price: My First American.
I waved goodbye to her and the insistent fellow getting our drinks and headed out the side door.
Thank you all for giving me fodder for this blog.
I’ll be back.
Your new American friend,
Beth
* No one sang anything by The Carpenters, sadly.
Observe and report 