On September 23, 2010, I worked up my courage and went walking into a bikers' bar. I'd been by the place a hundred times and wondered what it'd be like to go in, but naturally I was very reluctant. I'd hate to be cornered and made to regret it.
Of course everyone in the place turned to examine me up and down as soon as the door closed. Was I a narc? Was I there to repossess a bike, that is a motorcycle? Was I lost? Was I seriously coming through the door? I thought I saw a couple waitresses laughing about something.
No one gave me a bit of trouble going in. I was searching my brain, in relation to the setting, to determine what would be the right etiquette for taking a table and getting served. I must've looked clumsy. The whole place was unfamiliar to me, but I recognized what looked like tables across the way, and indeed they were. I sat.
So far, so good. And it went like that. To make a long story short, the waitress waited on me, I got my food, etc., and nothing untoward whatsoever happened. It was just like sitting in any other place. Except ... they were shooting photos for some kind of calendar, so a few waitresses stood in a provocative way at the bar, leading to a few hoots! from the bikers -- or at least it would've had any bikers actually been there. There weren't any at that time.
I was giving the waitresses a few appraising stares -- looking them up and down, when they weren't looking in my direction. There's a few places on women's bodies that tend to get my attention, but I keep a vigilant lookout for their eyes as well, so I'm able to nonchalantly look away. Had there been any bikers, I might've gotten beat up. Because with my appraising stares, I can tell you what they're worth to the penny, and that means I'm looking in some detail.
Anyway, it was an uneventful night. The food came. I ate it. I left.
But while there, I had a thought for a good character. And if I were an effeminate guy, I could probably make my personality match up with this character, at least in theory: The Pink Professor.
Like I said, the Pink Professor is effeminate, but he also has been made to fit right in with a bikers' gang, the gang that hangs out at "this fine establishment." Of course he would have to speak in those sorts of terms.
How would he have gotten to be someone the bikers accept and appreciate? His back story probably would have to start much like me going into the place. He would be accepted just because he's been there over the years, he's proven to be trustworthy, they feel he's classy, and he's kind of a mascot. Maybe, too, as a professor, he's helped them with some of the trivia games they always have on the computer. There's lots of reasons they'd like a Pink Professor sort of guy.
I was thinking of him like Little Lord Fauntleroy. Maybe warning some ne'er-do-well that the rest of the gang will "teach you a lesson that you shan't forget." The others are playing pool, having played it as young delinquent boys. P.P. "took a class" in it. I myself actually did both (but I wasn't a delinquent), learned it growing up and also took a class.
Pink Professor also explains the biker's bar to outsiders who happen to be visiting. Like with pool. "When they hit the balls like that, that's called a break."
And he often crosses his legs, while the others sit straight-legged.