The Way Out Club

Last Friday night my friend V and I went to the Way Out Club in St. Louis. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was the weekend before Halloween, that the weather was ominously creepy, or that we had had too much Vampire wine at Van Goghz before heading there, but it was a fascinating night out.

An exposed tit propositioning you outside the men’s restroom is pretty unexpected, isn’t it? At least, I imagine it was unexpected for my friend V who returned from a trip to the men’s room and told me this story.

What I have found in my 30s, is that you might look at something completely meaningless and your thoughts will immediately lead you down a path to something that lies in your subconscious. Since it was the Friday night before Halloween, the patronage at the club was decked out in Halloween regalia. Fantastic costumes gave us plenty to admire while enjoying our own conversation at our little table. In the dim lights we saw a beauty queen walk in. She was tall and pretty. As she approached us we realized she was Carrie, complete with pig blood. After commenting on her crown and how much it reminded him of the Statue of Liberty, V said to me in all seriousness “This country is bleeding, man. It’s bleeding.”

Anyway, The Gentleman Callers were really enjoyable for the first few songs, but then they started to bleed together a little bit. What killed me was the faux German accent the lead singer sported in between songs. At one point he addressed his keyboardist, Seth, who was decked out in 18th century garb, and said “we play ze maschines, but do ze maschines play us?”

I just want to say thank you to the guy who barricaded the door to the guy’s bathroom for me to make sure no one came in while I was using it. I don’t remember why I chose to use the guy’s bathroom, but it seemed like a necessary idea at the time. -K