The Most Bizarre Place in the World
I found the most bizarre place in the world Saturday night. It's a bar on a street that I'm not sure really exists.

Some friends of mine are in a band. I've never heard them play before because they always play late at night at shady bars, and that is just not my scene. But Saturday night, as I laid on my couch in my comfy shorts and t-shirt prepared for a quiet evening at home alone, I was called and convinced to get off the couch, get cleaned up and check out the band.

After a wonderful dinner, (which later proved to be the best part of the evening and had we any clue as to what the next few hours held, we would have stayed with dinner a whole lot longer), we ventured out to see the guys in the band. We had general directions to the bar, as well as the name of the bar: Home Bar. Doesn't sound too bad, right? Homey? Oh so wrong . . .

We drove to the area where I knew the bar to be. There are several bars in this area, so I figured we'd just drive up and down the street until we found the right bar. We proceeded to drive up, and down, and up, and down, and up, and down, until we were convinced that Home Bar was definitely not on that street.

We saw a bar with a giant green elephant on top. It was fairly empty inside, which may have had something to do with the Republican Party office headquarters being on the top floor of the two-story building. Something about a big 'Republican Party' sign capped off by a giant, lit-up green elephant just didn't seem right. We decided this was not the right bar.

Across the street from the green elephant place was the Across the Street Bar. Seriously. That was the name. We couldn't decide what that said for the bar. Is it a great bar? No, it's just the bar Across the Street. Is it a bad bar? Not sure. It's just Across the Street. Plus, if you are at Across the Street Bar, you are no longer across the street.

Whatever.

We decided to park the Jeep and poke our heads into Across the Street bar, to see if we could determine where this mysterious Home Bar might be, or if maybe we were looking for the wrong bar. As we walked over to the fine establishment, we heard a band setting up outside behind the building. We walked over to an iron fence and we could see band equipment on the other side. We figured this had to be it, but it was very, very confusing at this point. Nowhere did we see a sign for Home Bar.

We walked around to the front, which happened to be Across the Street bar (even though we were on the same side of the street now. don't get confused, as we were). There we found a man who didn't look like he should be the bouncer at a bar, and we decided to ask him if the band we were looking for (www.thebigredrooster.com) was playing here. He said no, they were playing at the Home Bar.

Great.

He then pointed out that Home Bar is directly behind Across the Street bar, and we could get there by walking around the corner. Keep in mind, this is a very dark street in not the best part of town. We looked where he was pointing to see darkness, and what looked like the back of closed warehouse buildings. He said it was just a short walk, and then pointed around the corner.

We decided to believe him. So, we started walking. We reached the commuter train tracks just in time to see a train whiz by, and we decided it might be a better idea to drive around the corner, rather than risk walking around on train tracks in the dark late at night in a scary part of town. We turned around and headed back up the street.

Across the Bar Bouncer Man stopped us and asked if we were really going to drive over there. We said yes. He said that was silly, there wouldn't be any parking, and seriously, it's directly behind Across the Street bar. He made it sound like it was the most idiotic idea in the world to drive around the corner.

So, not being sure what to make of the situation, we turned around again and headed towards the Train Tracks O' Doom. Just in time to see another train whiz by.

We crossed the tracks (quickly) and turned down the street, conversing about the strange Bouncer Man. We decided he looked more like a dad, or a football coach, rather than a bouncer at a bar. We decided he probably didn't even work there, and he had sent us off into the night on a scavenger hunt for this bar we felt sure did not really exist.

We rounded the corner to find another dark street (this being the street that we still aren't sure actually exists) with closed-looking warehouses, and some, but not a lot of cars parked along the street. Available parking? Plenty. We walked toward a lighted, albeit still desolate-looking building, and finally saw our destination: Home Bar. Actually, the sign was faded almost completely to white and simply said 'Home' on it, almost looking like someone had written it up there thirty seconds before we came around the corner.

We assumed this wasn't someone's actual Home, so we decided this must be the place. At this point we also decided these friends of ours had better be the best band in the whole world. We feared we'd made a bad decision by finally attempting to see them play.

We walked in the door with a few minutes to spare before we were told they would go on stage. A band was already playing, but we couldn't tell if it was our band or not. However, we could tell that it was really, really, loud.

We were stopped at the front by another non-bouncer looking bouncer who insisted on collecting five dollars cover charge from each of us. Then he mentioned that I couldn't bring my purse inside.

Wha-huh?

Crap. My car was on the Across the Street Bar street, which meant our walk around the corner, over the tracks, through the woods, and straight on til morning had taken us away from the place where I now needed to keep my purse. It was too loud to ask the guy why I couldn't bring in my purse (we assumed it was a security issue, since this 'bar' was obviously a hot spot for terrorist activity), so my partner in despair on this bizarre adventure for the evening offered to run my purse back to the Jeep.

I tell you now, not many guys would volunteer to run a girl's purse through a dark alley late at night to a car parked on another street. That was the sweetest part of the evening, and almost made the whole adventure worthwhile. And run like the wind, he did. Skinny guy with a purse alone on a dark street. He wasn't messing around.

He also was thoughtful enough to drive the Jeep over to Home bar, and park it conveniently right in front of the bar. Take that, Strange Across the Street Bouncer Man who said there wouldn't be any parking.

Once we were both inside, we discovered our band hadn't made it on stage, yet. We saw a room full of really young people. And we saw a gross, gross non-home-ish bar-type place. I was afraid to touch anything.

We pushed our way through the crowd to the back of the room and stumbled upon a few other people we knew. We clung to them. Soon our band friends showed up and let us know they would not be playing for another hour or so. After midnight. Oh dear God. . .

Well, we had made an incredible effort to be there, overcoming many obstacles to be there for our friends. We decided it would ruin the effort to leave at this point. So, we sat through one very loud band. Then another even louder band. We had ample time to people-watch, so we did. We saw more bumping and grinding than I ever need to see again, but it was strange bumping and grinding of the nature belonging to young college kids who are trying to bump and grind, yet they just aren't good at it. It was awkward. And sad.

We also saw a lot of strange outfits, and we determined that I had definitely worn the wrong thing. I wasn't showing enough skin, my clothes just weren't tight enough, and none of my clothing was falling off. I made a mental note in case we were ever forced to return here against our will.

Then I began to notice purses. Everywhere. Purses amok. My friends had their purses. Other girls had their purses. I saw a guy with a large European Carryall-type bag. Several backpacks walked by. If the rule of Home Bar was no purses inside, I was confused as to why I saw so many purses inside.

We were baffled. By now we were laughing at everything about the bizarre evening, but in a bitter sort of way. My cohort had risked his life carrying my purse to safety in the dead of night, yet other purses ran abundantly free inside Home Bar. It was beginning to look like discrimination. Had we wronged Home Bar in some way? Had we wronged the universe in some way? I don't remember doing such a thing, but we were certainly the target of something bizzare and out of our control.

Bravely sitting on a couch that I'm sure I would not have sat upon had I seen it in good lighting, we continued to watch the room. If security was the issue for my purse to have been banished from Home Bar, we were seeing some strange things around us. Several people were wearing giant foam cowboy hats. Sure, safe in the event of a potential head injury, but also large enough to conceal a good sized automatic weapon.

We then saw several people wearing toy plastic cowboy guns in hip holsters. Wha-huh?? Purse containing lipstick and chewing gum, not allowed. Things that look and act like guns? Yes, by all means bring those right in.

We decided Home Bar needed to post a list of acceptable items to bring into the bar. Anything resembling my purse, must stay out. Guns, nuclear weapons, box cutters, bombs, hand grenades, and toxic chemicals, please bring inside.

Once we tired of people watching, we began taking a closer look at Home Bar. My cohort noticed a sign asking people to please not put cigarrettes out on the carpet. At this point, we noticed the disgusting floor was actually carpet, littered with cigarrette butts and other random debris. We noticed many trailer-trash couches scattered about the room. Pictures on the wall resembled something your grandma might have in her house, complete with a picture of what we think was Jesus with a flock of sheep.

Clearly someone intended for Home Bar to be a 'homey' environment. But I assure you, this was nothing like my home.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, our band went on stage. They were the loudest of all. We managed to survive several songs, but eventually we couldn't take anymore. They weren't bad, we were just too tired to really enjoy it in the middle of a smoke-filled throng of youngsters going nuts. We made an executive decision to call it a night, feeling sure we had successfully supported our friends and their band.

If I didn't know it before, I walked out of Home Bar knowing without a doubt that I am old.

So old, in fact, that instead of sleeping in really late the next morning after getting home around 2am, I was awake at 7:30am. Just like my grandma.

I blame the evening at the most bizarre place in the world.

C.T.