Steven (unzeugmatic) wrote,

Butch Boys Who Aren't

On Sunday I dropped by at the Minneapolis Eagle on my way to the two-stepping at Lee's Liquor Lounge because my jovial pal Al, who seems to live at the Eagle, told me that Sundays have a different crowd and feel than Friday and Saturday nights and I wanted to check it out.

It turns out that during Sunday beer bust at the Eagle the connected-room video bar next door, Bolt, shows clips from musicals. Minneapolis isn't really a big show-queen town, it seems (what place is, lo these 35 years after Stonewall?) but the man choosing the clips was clever in his selection and juxtaposition and I was quite entertained.

I was especially entertained by something in particular that I saw, and not on the video screen. There was a husky muscular gentleman in attendance, with a shaved head and fierce goatee and a thick gold hoop earring. He was fearsome indeed. He was wearing a t-shirt that said, in large letters (to complement his large chest): BUTCH.

Big fierce guy was chatting and drinking with his big fierce companions when a video clip from some old classic musical came on -- perhaps South Pacific, or maybe even The Harvey Girls. Fierce guy dropped his conversation and at the top of his lungs, big smile on his face, mouth open wide, he sang along with every word. BUTCH his shirt said.

It was wonderful. I want to meet that man.
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