The Uptown: Disneyland for Handlebar Mustaches
That reminds me of something that has always flummoxed me: Why is there a brand of adult diapers called Depends? Do you really want to trust your incontinence to a name like that? Sometimes it will absorb your urine, other times it won't -- it depends. Finally, another company came out with Certainty. Now that's a brand I can stand behind. Or sit in.
I brought my doggie, ol' Flo the basset, and we sat on a couch and she watched me intently while I did my crossword.
Every time I come here, I see men with handlebar moustaches, and this night did not disappoint. I find them strangely appealing. Oh how I would love a man in a handlebar mustache to ride up on one of those bicycles with a huge front wheel and serenade me with "Sweet Adeline." These guys are rocker types, though, so I would settle for "Sweet Child o' Mine" in a pinch.
If this were Disneyland, I suppose the Uptown would be in New Orleans Square, next to the Haunted House. It's not rustic enough to be in Frontierland. There were indeed women there who looked a bit like Cruella -- bone-thin, with dyed black hair with white streaks. I think a few of them were even eyeballing my dog's fur.
The handlebar mustache guy was sitting with a friend directly across from me. There wasn't much conversation going on, but if there were, I'm sure they would be discussing Radio Birdman. Some hipster dudes are a lot like old married couples. All that can be said has been said. The spark has gone out, but they don't want to be alone. They know what the other one wants to drink without asking. If the friendship has been going okay that week, they might even surprise each other with a free one.
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