Dream of:11 September 1996 (2) "Getting Out Of The House"
I was sitting in a bar on Chillicothe Street in Portsmouth (in the block where my father had once owned the El Dorado bar in the late 1970s). Right behind me was a stage for female dancers, but not many people were in the bar and no one was dancing at the moment. I was sitting in a large comfortable soft chair, and a black-haired woman walked up and sat down in a similar chair right on my left. She was a dancer in the bar, although it didn't appear as if she planned to do any dancing right now. She commented to me that not many people were in the bar, and I replied that the action would probably pick up later.
I was drinking a beer, and when I had finished, I stood up and without saying anything else to the woman, I headed toward the door. I reflected that I was being a bit rude by not even saying good-bye to the woman; but I didn't owe here anything, and I felt little compunction from my behavior. I didn't like being put in a position by someone else where I was required to be polite.
Outside the door I turned right and walked south. I headed straight to another bar which was about three doors away. I was thinking that it made sense to go to the other bar and drink a beer, since the beer at the second bar was cheaper. Later in the evening, when the action picked up, I might return to the first bar. I would be able to order the same kind of beer (I tried to remember what kind of beer I had been drinking; it seemed as if it were Bud Light) and pay less at the second bar.
I reached the second bar and walked in. A wooden bar ran along the left side of the bar, while either pool tables or smaller dining tables were in the area to my right. The bar was fairly crowded with perhaps 20 men. As I walked along the bar, I thought I saw Ramey, but staring closer I saw it wasn't Ramey. I hoped the person I was staring at didn't become offended by my staring. It was a rather rough bunch in here, and although I felt no danger, I didn't want to start any trouble with anybody.
I found a place about half way down the bar and sat down. The bartender was a short black-haired fellow who looked like an actor I had seen. He knew me and tried to be friendly. He asked me if after I had a drink I were going to jump off the bar and make some kind of funny movements the way I had done the last time I had been in here. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I didn't care for his friendliness. I simply ordered my beer, which he brought to me, and I paid him. It cost two dollars, a dollar cheaper than the first bar.
When I had the beer, I picked it up and walked down to the end of the bar, and around the corner of the wooden bar. I took a seat facing the door from where I could take in the whole room. I looked around at everyone, hoping I might see someone I knew. I especially hoped I might spot Walls. He might even know where I could buy some LSD. In fact I regretted that I hadn't called up Walls before I had come out tonight. I would have rather been with him than be out here alone. I knew that I rarely saw Walls anymore, and that he had ended up becoming such a dissolute person that I didn't care much for hanging around with him. But tonight I wished I had some company, even his.
I thought that I after I finished this beer, I might just go on back to the Gay Street House, which was only a block away, and was where I was staying now with my father. I thought it might be a problem if my father smelled beer on my breath. But then I realized that wouldn't be a problem, that instead he would probably be glad to see that I was getting out of the house. He wouldn't care if I had drunk a little beer.
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