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We were wandering from bar to bar, as we do when we get fed up of our usual drinking spots and we found this bar. The decor was a bit funky, but it was quiet and importantly the bar was well stocked and looked capable of supporting a long night of binge drinking so we decided to stay.
We get our drinks and find a spot close to the dance floor. At this point there are three of us and maybe five guys by the front door where we'd come in.
It occurs to me that there aren't any women in the place. But there were only a handful of people there so it was reasonable to assume that this was the reason for the lack of women. The music was a little too loud to chat and there was no atmosphere in the place so we're sort of looking around, checking the place out. Soon we stop looking around the room and we start looking at each other with that look that says "There's something not right here." The walls are covered with pictures of glamorous female movie stars from the thirties and the whole place was just a little camp.
My mate to the left of me leans in and he says, "Those guys by the door keep looking us over." I have a look and sure enough they're looking but there's no hint of hostility. Then one of the guys gets up, walks in the campest fashion ever to the dance floor and begins dancing rather provocatively about three feet away from us.
"Lads" I say, "There are no women in here, the décor is just a little bit camp and there is a guy in front of us dancing like a loony." "Yeah" my mate says, "and those guys are eyeing us up and it might just be me but the barman looks just a little bit camp."
Everyone sighs. "We've walked into a gay bar" I groan "No wonder we haven't been in here before" laughs my mate. "Ok, nobody panic, let's just drink up and fuck off." Everyone agrees this is a good idea.
At this point our experiences with Irish car bombs came into play. For those who don't know an Irish car bomb is a drink. You get maybe 2/3 of a pint of Guinness and then, in a double shot glass, one shot of Jameson's whiskey and a shot of Baileys. You drop the shot glass into the Guinness and then knock the whole lot back in one go. Awesome drink. For about three months my dojo's Saturday night drinking was pretty much Grolshe, Absinthe (Parisienne not that Bohemian nonsense) and Irish car bombs. Yes. I know; our drinking habits are alarming. The owner of a bar bet us that if we could drink a bottle of tequila he'd buy us glasses with our names engraved on them. He lost.
Suffice to say that we proudly carry on the tradition of uchi deshi going out drinking. Fortunately we don't have to worry about O-Sensei leaping out of the dark and hitting us with a bokken when we roll in in the morning and Friday night is always a dry night because of Saturday's training.
I digress. So we knock back our drinks and head for the nearest exit. The rear exit. Jokes were made about that all night.