When I was in Nashville recently, a group of us went to the bar Coyote Ugly on a Sunday. Being Yearbook advisers from all over the country, we clearly fit right into the land of lap dance lovers.
Most of the crowd contained the waitresses, a Bachelorette Party, and guys who thought that their “day of rest” was best spent on body shots.
There was one such guy who fit that mold perfectly. The minute we walked in, he approached our group to see who were these strangers that were clearly not staples at Coyote Ugly, nor did we have huge “BRIDE-TO-BE” sashes on our shirts. The guy quickly learned that we were a group of teachers, and that I was from Iowa.
I think he had seen the movie Coyote Ugly too many times, because he was convinced being from the land of corn, I would decide that it was my destiny to dance on the counter at Coyote Ugly.
You better believe he was a lingerer. He was also at least 70 years old.
Rather than leaving the lingerer (or obviously taking up his offer to climb on the counter together), I decided to use it as a lesson—a Creative Writing, lesson that is. When I was in a Seminar the next day—paying very close attention—I decided to write about this guy. He was too ridiculous not to remember:
“From the neck down, he fit right in. He wore a bright blue polo and faded blue jeans, which he added a brown belt to hold them up. His clothes were common, not flashy.
If it weren’t for his handle bar grey moustache that nearly reached his nostrils that had such a flip that it looked as if he’d used a curling iron for the strands of hair, he’d have fit right into the crowd of customers.
The man had a smile like Santa Clause, hair the same shade, and a stomach that suggested he spent many hours snacking. However, he wasn’t anyone that could be trusted to deliver gifts to small children and was definitely not someone who should have small children on his lap.
The moustached man had eyes like a makeup mirror. They weren’t like a store mirror, where shoppers give a brief glance to as they walk by to make sure they don’t have food in tehir teeth or a stray hair sticking up. His eyes were like a mirror that a teenager uses while carefully tweezing her eyebrows. His eyes made sure that they analyzed every single aspect of every girl that passed by, making sure that he didn’t miss a single spec.”
Have you ever encountered an old, creepy man when out?