Friday night, my former roommate Phillip was performing in the bar of a place called The Seafood Peddler. Not only do I not eat seafood, I don’t readily patronize places with “Peddler” in the name. None the less, Pip was singing in Marin and I had to go.
The Seafood Peddler is the kind of place that old people go to be fancy. I believe they have a classier lobster bib than say, The Crab Shack or similar. It’s pretty big inside, with a dock you can cruise up to and a huge bar, staffed by several very rude women and one hot bartender.
Past all the bluehairs and gentlemen in Member’s Only jackets, I found my rag tag group of friends sitting in the back downing Manhattans and looking very, very gay. I sat next to Juan, busy working the obviously straight and uninterested bartender, and ordered a glass of wine. We delighted in shocking the old folks next to us as Juan regaled us with his tale of Gold’s Gym sauna sex, culminating in the theft of his laptop.
“Girl, you know that shit was worth it, though. He was fine.”
“He stole your laptop, Juan. Your trick stole your fucking laptop.”
I guess Juan has a very different idea of what’s “worth it.”
Pip sang beautifully, and really, there’s nothing like sitting in the middle of The Seafood Peddler, have a big gay black man pull you up to the piano and sing “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp.”
Perhaps, he should’ve been singing that to Juan…