Kinda Skanky, But Mostly Harmless
Setting the stage: I was recently in San Francisco attending a conference. I have a high-school friend who lives here, and I was able to crash on his couch. On the second night I was in town we went out to dinner (had some nice Mexican food) and then went out for a beer at a bar near his house. It was the kind of bar that is good for watching sports, as it wasn't too busy, there were plenty of TVs, there was a good beer selection, and smoking isn't allowed. Sitting area in the front, pool tables in a separate room in the back, bar in another room off to the left.
As we sat down, we were (of course) checking out the ladies around the place. I'm married, but he's single, and I'm happy to do whatever I can to help him hook up. There were the usual assortment of ladies that one might expect to find in such an establishment. Some were sporty, some were spicy, some were dolled up, some were dressed down. There was one lady who had a prominent tramp stamp (in case you're unfamiliar with this term, this is the tattoo across the base of the back), and was very willing to show it off. Kinda skanky, but mostly harmless...we immediately dubbed her "Tramp Stamp."
The evening wears on...we're not actually interacting with any of the ladies...we're simply sitting, chatting, and drinking our beers. A group of what I assume are English rugby players came into the bar and started drinking, hitting on the ladies, and generally being louts. I assume that they are English rugby players because there are about 10 relatively rugged looking guys all wearing the exact same shirt (which said, "I'm kind of a big deal in England" on the front, and "People Know Me" on the back). The only other people I've ever interacted with in the past who displayed similar pack behavior were my brother's rugby teammates. As with "Tramp Stamp", they were kinda skanky, but mostly harmless.
As the evening wore on, and the beer continued to flow, I found that I had to visit the men's room. I had been there earlier in the evening, and knew that it was off of the room with the pool-tables. It was a small room, with two urinals, a sink and a booth - all crammed into a room half the size of a normal sized walk-in closet. Pretty non-descript...if you've been in a bar restroom, then you know that it was pretty skanky, but mostly harmless (as long as you don't touch too much). So, I go into the bathroom, first urinal's open but the second is occupied. I take up my position at the urinal and notice that something's not right. The guy to my left is lingering a bit too long, if you know what I mean. At first, I thought it was something to do with me, and I started plotting my escape strategy (as I was closest to the door, I figured I could get away before anything too bad happened). But then it occurred to me that he wasn't lingering for me, he was lingering because of what was happening in the booth. One of the rugby guys was standing in the booth with the door closed, but something was off...he was standing much too far back from the toilet to be doing anything normally associated with that area. I started to hear noises not normally associated with that area of the bathroom, and I realized that what you might expect to be happening in there was actually happening. I didn't see the lady that was involved, but the guy was looking right at me...I assume he was looking for validation for what was happening because he gave me a slight nod (also known as the "dude nod") and started saying things to the lady that are too impolite to restate here. At this point, the lady stands up from doing what a lady normally doesn't do on her knees in a men's room and turns around to do a second thing that a lady doesn't normally do in a men's room...I realize, with absolutely no surprise, that it's "Tramp Stamp."
I leave the restroom, slightly dazed, and wondering what to do from there. I'm not really interested in sticking around to observe the walk of shame as it's becoming pretty obvious that most everyone else in the bar is now aware of what's happening. But we're not done with our drinks yet, and we haven't paid, so we can't simply walk out (which would have been awkward anyway, because my friend had no idea what was happening). We sit around, finish our beers as my friend becomes aware of what's going on (mostly because I told him, but also from the buzz in the room). We didn't hurry, but we didn't dawdle either. We left the bar without seeing either "Tramp Stamp" or the rugby dude again.
As I walked back to his place, I thought about what I'd just witnessed (although, that's not really the right word as I didn't actually see anything other than an awkward "dude nod" and a lady standing up and turning around). I can't shake the question, if you were that girl, would you wake up disgusted with yourself, or is that a normal Monday evening for "Tramp Stamp"? It makes me very sad to think that the answer to either of those questions is yes...
Setting the stage: I was recently in San Francisco attending a conference. I have a high-school friend who lives here, and I was able to crash on his couch. On the second night I was in town we went out to dinner (had some nice Mexican food) and then went out for a beer at a bar near his house. It was the kind of bar that is good for watching sports, as it wasn't too busy, there were plenty of TVs, there was a good beer selection, and smoking isn't allowed. Sitting area in the front, pool tables in a separate room in the back, bar in another room off to the left.
As we sat down, we were (of course) checking out the ladies around the place. I'm married, but he's single, and I'm happy to do whatever I can to help him hook up. There were the usual assortment of ladies that one might expect to find in such an establishment. Some were sporty, some were spicy, some were dolled up, some were dressed down. There was one lady who had a prominent tramp stamp (in case you're unfamiliar with this term, this is the tattoo across the base of the back), and was very willing to show it off. Kinda skanky, but mostly harmless...we immediately dubbed her "Tramp Stamp."
The evening wears on...we're not actually interacting with any of the ladies...we're simply sitting, chatting, and drinking our beers. A group of what I assume are English rugby players came into the bar and started drinking, hitting on the ladies, and generally being louts. I assume that they are English rugby players because there are about 10 relatively rugged looking guys all wearing the exact same shirt (which said, "I'm kind of a big deal in England" on the front, and "People Know Me" on the back). The only other people I've ever interacted with in the past who displayed similar pack behavior were my brother's rugby teammates. As with "Tramp Stamp", they were kinda skanky, but mostly harmless.
As the evening wore on, and the beer continued to flow, I found that I had to visit the men's room. I had been there earlier in the evening, and knew that it was off of the room with the pool-tables. It was a small room, with two urinals, a sink and a booth - all crammed into a room half the size of a normal sized walk-in closet. Pretty non-descript...if you've been in a bar restroom, then you know that it was pretty skanky, but mostly harmless (as long as you don't touch too much). So, I go into the bathroom, first urinal's open but the second is occupied. I take up my position at the urinal and notice that something's not right. The guy to my left is lingering a bit too long, if you know what I mean. At first, I thought it was something to do with me, and I started plotting my escape strategy (as I was closest to the door, I figured I could get away before anything too bad happened). But then it occurred to me that he wasn't lingering for me, he was lingering because of what was happening in the booth. One of the rugby guys was standing in the booth with the door closed, but something was off...he was standing much too far back from the toilet to be doing anything normally associated with that area. I started to hear noises not normally associated with that area of the bathroom, and I realized that what you might expect to be happening in there was actually happening. I didn't see the lady that was involved, but the guy was looking right at me...I assume he was looking for validation for what was happening because he gave me a slight nod (also known as the "dude nod") and started saying things to the lady that are too impolite to restate here. At this point, the lady stands up from doing what a lady normally doesn't do on her knees in a men's room and turns around to do a second thing that a lady doesn't normally do in a men's room...I realize, with absolutely no surprise, that it's "Tramp Stamp."
I leave the restroom, slightly dazed, and wondering what to do from there. I'm not really interested in sticking around to observe the walk of shame as it's becoming pretty obvious that most everyone else in the bar is now aware of what's happening. But we're not done with our drinks yet, and we haven't paid, so we can't simply walk out (which would have been awkward anyway, because my friend had no idea what was happening). We sit around, finish our beers as my friend becomes aware of what's going on (mostly because I told him, but also from the buzz in the room). We didn't hurry, but we didn't dawdle either. We left the bar without seeing either "Tramp Stamp" or the rugby dude again.
As I walked back to his place, I thought about what I'd just witnessed (although, that's not really the right word as I didn't actually see anything other than an awkward "dude nod" and a lady standing up and turning around). I can't shake the question, if you were that girl, would you wake up disgusted with yourself, or is that a normal Monday evening for "Tramp Stamp"? It makes me very sad to think that the answer to either of those questions is yes...