For those who don’t follow my life like it’s an episode of The Amazing Race, I moonlight as a bouncer at a pool hall. It’s an easy job. Relaxed atmosphere, most of the patrons are regulars, and I don’t usually have to crack skulls or kick anyone out.
We have a rule that you have to be 21 to come in unless you’re accompanied by a parent or legal guardian. Legal guardians include parents, foster parents, step parents, or anyone who has custody of the under 21. Please note that spouses are not on that list.
So two women came in the other night. One was 44, the other was 20. When I asked for the younger woman’s ID, the older one said, “She’s with me. I’m her legal guardian,” and pointed to a wedding band on her finger. Even though I was pretty sure I understood what she was saying, I wanted to clarify. So I asked if she was her daughter, either by birth or by adoption. She got a disgusted look on her face and said, “No, she’s my wife.”
I tried to explain to her that that wasn’t good enough. That she wasn’t her guardian, she was her partner. Legally, that wasn’t going to pacify any police officers or ABC officials who find out that we let an under 21 into the bar when they try to shut us down.
She asked me if I had a problem with lesbians. “No ma’am, I don’t.” She asked why I wouldn’t let them in. “I already explained why, ma’am.” I admit my voice may have been betraying my frustration and anger at that accusation. She demanded to speak to my manager, so I go and grab Mike.
He comes up and asked what the problem is. She says, “This homophobic fucktard you have working security won’t let me bring my wife in to play pool.” He asked me if it was true, and I explained that it was and why. He told her that I was just following the rules and that he didn’t appreciate the language she was using. She yelled back (loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the bar), “Oh, so you hate homos to?”
He then asked me to escort the ladies out of the bar. She said, “No, I don’t want that asshole anywhere near me. We can find our own way out.”
I hardly know where to begin. I am not homophobic. Really. I’m not going to give a list of reasons why, as I feel I shouldn’t have to. I hate the fact that I can’t let under 21s into the bar. I know we could make a lot more money if I could just give out wrist bands to the people who could drink and let everyone else pay us for pool, food, and soda. But the Virginia ABC is apparently really strict about this sort of thing, and even if they weren’t, the GM is. Either way, the rules are posted in not one, not two, but THREE PLACES around the front doors you walked through.
Playing the homophobic card is not going to help you. I know that Virginia isn’t the most progressive state in the union when it comes to gay rights. But you’re not going to win anyone over to your side by calling everyone who slights you a homophobe. That’s not why I wouldn’t let you in.
So excuse me but fuck you lady. I am not a homophobe, you are a bitch, and I hope you get your pubes stuck in a toilet seat. You need to get over yourself and try to get it through that thick skull that not everyone hates you because you like women. I really don’t give a shit who you have sex with.
I have no real ending for this rant, so I’ll just bow out now and try to find a constructive way to channel this irrational anger.