Last Saturday was my fifth wedding anniversary. Although there is a vacation in the “offing,” (how come that word is usually only used in relation to wedding announcements?) we did go out and do the dinner and dancing thing.
That’s right, I said dancing. OK, it was two dances. But that is probably more than I’ve had in the last couple of years of our marriage. I kind of let Keith off the hook when it came to dancing awhile ago and he usually only pulls out the moves for one dance at a wedding.
Anyway, this is not about dancing.
It’s about Mancini’s Lounge in St. Paul. This place, besides being modeled after a 1970s Vegas lounge, has the best people watching. The Midas Touch were playing. The regulars were at the bar. There was a lot of fashion.
Remember those turtlenecks from the 1980s that were white but then had tiny somethings on them? I believe I had one covered in tiny turtles. Whales and apples were also popular. A woman we called Mrs. Hand Dance was rocking one of these with some maroon polyester pants. She sat at the bar, seemed to know a lot of people (although no one seemed all that happy to see her) and moved her hands when the band played. She was literally Hand Dancing. She got up and went out on the dance floor a couple of times, most notably to hug the face of a woman who was there for a bachelorette party. Which leads me to…
Asking why women seem to take such pleasure in humiliating the bride at bachelorette parties? Jealousy? Misery loves company? I don’t get it. How did this tradition get started? Our Bride-To-Be was decked out in a crown that had tiny penises on each point, the required veil of cheap netting and had a gigantic blow-up penis that got tossed around the dance floor. Her friend worked the room selling lollipops (the ever-popular Suck for a Buck.)
And The Midas Touch do have a super fan. A kind of chubby woman wearing a white t-shirt with puffy paint on it saying The Midas Touch. Baseball cap on backwards. Tiny electric guitar that one might win on a Midway at the fair. I think a nice touch would have been a more dramatic outfit. The homemade t-shirt wasn’t rocking me. Too basic. It’s the MIDAS Touch for God’s sake – how about some gold glitter? She had a spot right up near the stage but off to the side and she’d “play” her guitar along with the music. It was never clear to me if she had an actual connection to the band. I kind of hope so because otherwise I feel sad.
The Visor Twins – There were two guys there wearing visors. Now, I have to ask what possesses someone (who isn’t in a frat) to think, “I’m going out to the bar; better get my visor.” But that begs the bigger question of why anyone would have a visor in the first place. I guess to play golf and tennis. Is it because your head gets hot and needs ventilation but you also need eye protection from the sun? But then what is this doing for you at a bar? I’ll tell you what its not doing – it’s not making anyone look attractive. One of the Visor Twins had a lady with him and they took a lot of turns out on the dance floor but the other just sat at the bar, talking to no one and looking morose. The big moment came when the Visor Twin at the bar came over to say hello to the Visor Twin with the lady friend. Did they know each other or was there just an immediate bond over headwear? I wasn’t able to tell.
There was a tall guy wearing a completely nondescript outfit – cream-colored long sleeve shirt, gray jeans, brown shoes. But then something caught my eye as it twinkled under the lounge lights – a thin, gold belt. Shiny. Feminine. Odd.
An older lady with long gray hair wore a tank top so sparkly you could not look directly at it. And some kind of rope light in her hair. And a big ring that flashed.
But I’ve saved the best for last. A guy came in wearing a tan trench coat and black pants. He circulated around with this bizarre look on his face. For a second I was thinking he might pull out a machine gun and mow down The Midas Touch. He picked a booth near us and whipped off the trench to reveal… a tuxedo t-shirt. With a “tie pin” that flashed (flare is huge at Mancini’s). He ordered a Coke and then started to stalk women to make them dance with him. He succeeded twice with a woman at the next booth over but both times they went out on the floor together there was no interaction. No eye contact. No smiles. Certainly no touching. Then the dance would end and he would go back on the prowl.
Here’s Keith’s rendering of Tuxedo T-Shirt Man: