A Story From the Not So Distant Past...
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: Alicia Keyes
One night, my girlfriend Dawn and I were headed out on a Saturday eve for a much needed ?girl?s night?. We had decided to go see my fav, the Chuck Hall Band, at some local bar we had never heard of before.

We are in the car, ABBA cranked (nothing gets you amped up for an evening out like ABBA?it?s the silliness of it I?m certain or maybe that you get to sing in falsetto at the top of your lungs ?cuz you know, that?s always fun), windows down, when we pull into the bar.

As I got out of the car, I noticed there were a lot of motorcycles out front but I gave it no thought really as I was still singing ?Dancing Queen?. I simply opened the door and we walked in. The place was pretty much pitch black inside although this could have been due to the fact that I was still wearing my sunglasses. Suddenly, Dawn stops short and I, still humming and dancing (yeah, I know I?m a dork) just shove her on forward as Dawn is not always known for being plucky in situations that might at first appear daunting.

Quickly, I phased back to reality from my Red Bull, ABBA-induced hyper land and took stock of the bar. This is when I realize that the place is full of bikers. As in we are the only people in there who aren?t bikers. And folks, when I say bikers, I mean bikers. I do not mean weekend warriors or RUBbies (Rich Urban Bikers) I mean 100% genuine scooter trash. It was rather apparent after scanning the crowd, that by no means, were we going to ?blend?. Oops.

Me being me, I flashed Dawn my best ?Come on, I dare you?, flipped my hair back over my shoulder and strutted right over to a table in the middle of the bar, right across the dance floor from the bandstand and hopped onto a bar stool to settle in for the duration.

Next order of business was definitely beverages. Beer alone was just not going to cut it. What I yearned for was the cheery warmth and liquid courage contained in a hi ball glass of a good, smokey single malt Scotch, but I figured that would have been akin to shouting ?Bikers suck? in the trying to lay low department. So beers and tequila shots it was. Speaking of which, have you ever heard of Montezuma brand tequila? Yeah, me either before that. To put it mildly, it?s got nothing on Padron. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothing.

So anywho, Dawn is slowly relaxing under my relentless cheeriness and incessant chattering when I spot a hottie. A hottie in a biker bar, go figure but as my friends will tell you, trust me to find the one hot guy anywhere I am. After some furtive eye contact and big toothy smiles, hottie makes his way over to our table.

So I?m making time with hottie. He?s cute and funny. Bonus! Love funny! Then hottie says he?s going to grab another beer and asks if we need another drink. Nice! He?s considerate of our current beverage status. Things are looking good. As he walks up to the bar, I flip around to catch the rear view. What can I say? I am an ass girl. Ass is checking in nicely as well. All is right with the world and the band hasn?t even started playing.

As hottie leans over the bar, I notice something on his elbows. Yes, plural. My first thought was grease or something then I realize it?s not grease, they?re tattoos. Not only are they tattoos, they say something. I squinch up my eyes and I read them. And I read them again. And again. OH HOLY SHIT! I whip around to Dawn and I say ?Read his elbows!? And Dawn is like ?What?? and a little more urgently now, I hiss ?Read his elbows!? And Dawn says ?What are you talking about Meg?? and I almost scream at her through clenched teeth ?Read his fricking elbows!? So Dawn turns around and says out loud ?Power?White. I don?t get it? I say ?Dawn, read the left one first.? and she says ?White...Power?oh my Gawd!?

Mind racing, I am trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. I can deal with a lot of negative habits and behaviors in others. Racism and rampant halitosis are the two that are complete deal breakers with me.

Just then, my ex husband walks in with a bunch of his buddies. Can I tell you that I have never been so happy to see him? You know it?s pretty bad when that happens?one would expect flying pigs and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse among other harbingers of doom to appear. I launched myself across the room and into his surprised arms with a squeal and a giant hug. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that. As soon as I had safely rebuffed Captain Xenophobic, I thanked my surprised ex and went back to my table where I proceeded to ignore him and no longer hottie for the remainder of the evening.

I guess my friends will have to amend their statement. Leave it to me to find the only hottie racist anywhere I am?