A flash of light caught Tom’s attention. He looked up to find the neon sign of Joe’s Last Stand Saloon flickering to life above him, it’s red-orange colors warm against the cold sky. Remembering the promise of a drink he’d made to himself a few hours earlier, he turned and headed for the entrance.
Tom opened the door and immediately recoiled with shock. The old saloon was packed. He’d been in Joe’s a few times before, but the crowd had never been anything like this. His first instinct was to pull an about-face and find a quieter bar, but as the patrons closest to the door turned and stared at him, the idea of leaving suddenly seemed childish and rather cowardly. Deciding that his need for a drink was stronger than his aversion to the crowd and the germs that came with it, Tom cautiously worked his way inside.
He headed towards the bar and noticed with luck that a single barstool in the corner was still open. He pushed his way through the mob and sat down wearily between a young couple busily groping each other and an older man quietly reading a newspaper. “I’ll take a Bud Light when you get a chance,” he shouted as the heavyset bartender passed by. The bartender didn’t acknowledge him. “Bud Light, please!” he repeated.
“Heard you the first time,” the bartender replied flatly, giving him a petulant sidelong glance as he poured a fresh beer from the tap. “Be with you in a minute.”
Tom glanced around the old saloon. He wasn’t familiar enough with the place to know if this type of crowd was common, but his instincts told him it was extreme even for a busy night. As he always did in public areas, Tom pulled a sanitary wipe from the inside pocket of his jacket and quickly wiped down the bar top in front of him before tossing the cloth discreetly under the bar. He then glanced at the young couple beside him as they continued to kiss; their hands in constant motion to find exposed and loosely concealed skin. Seeing no chance of a conversation there, he turned to the older man sitting next to him.
“Hell of a night here, huh?”
The older man looked up from his newspaper and leveled his piercing blue eyes on Tom. “Indeed it is,” he replied.
The bartender hastily placed a beer on the counter in front of Tom and yelled out the price as he moved down the bar, his hands stretched full with drink orders. Tom considered wiping the glass with a sanitary wipe before irritably pushed the thought from his mind. “I don’t think he likes me,” he muttered as he pulled out his wallet and dropped the money for his drink on the bar.
The older man seemed to weigh the thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I say he’s too busy to have an opinion of you just yet.”
“You’re probably right,” Tom replied as he studied the man next to him. He looked to be in his late fifties, with wavy, gray-streaked hair and a rugged-looking face that gave him the incongruous look of both outdoor adventurer and philosophy professor. Despite his age, he appeared to be remarkably fit, and something about his demeanor told Tom that the man was still quite capable of handling himself. Given his relaxed manner, Tom also sensed the man was a regular at Joe’s.
“So, is it usually like this around here?” Tom asked, slightly out of curiosity and mostly just to kill time.
“No,” the older man replied, his eyes still scanning the paper. “Today is a uniquely busy day.”
“Any particular reason why?” Tom pressed.
The older man looked up from the paper and drained the final drops of his beer. With a quick gesture of his hand he caught the attention of the bartender, who wordlessly nodded and smiled before immediately bringing a fresh replacement. Tom knew without trying that he could not replicate that response.
“There’s always a reason my friend.” The old man turned and stared at Tom with a stern, empty expression. “Whether you can know it or not, whether you can see it or not, whether you can understand it or not, the reason is always right there in front of you.”
Tom stared back at the old man, trying to decide if they were still talking about the same thing, when the older man suddenly smiled. “By the way, my name’s Chip,” he said, extending his large hand. Tom nodded and shook the older man’s hand, surprised by his strength. “I’m Tom. Nice to meet you, Chip.”
“Nice to meet you, Tom,” Chip replied, extending his arm and sweeping it theatrically around the room. “And welcome to gay and lesbian night at Joe’s Last Stand Saloon.”
Tom froze for a moment as the words sunk in, then nodded as he reached for his beer. He glanced quickly at the couple kissing next to him as he took a drink, trying to catch a glimpse of their sex. The one furthest from him was definitely a woman, and a good looking one at that. Although he couldn’t see her partner’s face, by all accounts it appeared to be a man with short cropped hair in an oversized flannel shirt. Unfortunately, Tom knew that description also matched the look of every bull-dike in northern Arizona. He sat his drink back onto the bar and sighed heavily.