Lost Track of Time//Life at Magnolia’s

[anna karina looking the way i feel//source]

He asked me what I was doing later.  It seemed natural to retort “nothing.”  But I hesitated, realizing it was Friday.  What was there to do?  I thought, feeling obligated to have a plan.  I rattled my brain for some clever things, staring off into the scene behind him: grain-textured lampposts, the aging growing trees, and the peak of a waterspout from the fountain a block over.  “I forgot that it’s Friday,” I admitted.  “I have nothing to do.”

“Maybe you could come to the gay bar I told you about.  Magnolia’s.   I discovered a loophole in getting you in."  In, as he put it, meant sneaking into the venue.  Apparently this was necessary on the “25 and Over” nights.  A necessity that seemed ironic to me.

I've been of drinking age for 2 or 3 years now, but somehow there are still limits on which bars I can go to; nights reserved for someone even older.  Apparently, the age game never ends.  Finally I said, “Okay” agreeing to go.  I've been turned down from clubs before for being underage, but that didn’t stop me.  Not even when I had to do Community Service for using a Fake I.D.  Not a good idea at Club Home. 

I thought I could hop on that train one more time and give myself a sense of uncertainty: would I “get in” or be turned down, and feel the nightlife embarrassment?  The dilemma was silly.  Yet I did feel “under age” again. 

Later, on the stoop of Magnolia’s, I could feel my heart racing, and the tense of unease.  I stood next to Jay asking, “how does this work?”

“Just give me the money,” he said, as I inched closer to him.  I figured standing shoulder-to-shoulder would offer some sort of protection; provide some sort of insurance.  I imagined that if the bouncer saw we were “attached at the hip”, then he would definitely let me in to the club.  Friendship might override my deniable age.

$4 is what I gave him.  It had been so long since I paid a cover to a club (I’m used to getting in for free), that I thought $4 was just half of the admission price, and that Jay was being kind by paying the rest of my way.  But somewhere along the line, I realized I had my wires crossed:  Tonight was a regular “21 and Over” night, and the price to get in was $4 (a low cover was a plus for Magnolia’s). 

I realized this when I  waved my I.D for the doorman, as Jay instructed me to do.  Without hesitation, he asked for the money, then gave Jay 2 tickets-one for him.  One for me.  Easy, I thought.  But as I reached for my receipt/ticket/drink waiver I felt my eyes gravitate towards a sign on the wall.  It read “25 and Up on Wednesdays.”  My second reminder, that it was Friday.

Written as a Proposed Feature for Alive Magazine 2011