Dressing Up For Molly McGuire’s Tavern (Part 1)

Staying In Tonight

What tender slang befalls these lips that care again for chronology than to head out to Trivia at the Catholic Club tonight. In this past week or two my work is starting to catch up with me and because I write so much detail of a day, three hours just isn’t enough for depiction. It might clear up a day’s worth of chronology but it will take me much longer to catch up on past events forgotten.

Regardless, I chose to stay home tonight even before I finished work because I didn’t want to overdress for a Monday night at the Catholic Club and all I would have had to wear was my good sweater and some good pants. There isn’t really too much time to chat about past events tonight so I will show god’s speed so that I can watch ‘Ally Mcbeal’ tonight…

Starting the epic and prolonged tale of my life at present, we shall begin with our disappointing realization that we couldn’t watch Austin Powers on Saturday night and therefore, split up. Binh went off with Leroy and his other friend to bowl and Ralf, Shawn, Keith and I had the intention of heading to Molly McGuire’s Tavern in Camden. The idea of heading out to the City was lost in the bullshit jargon that came from Ralf’s dribbling mouth of protest and the thought of Chevy’s was one cliché that like itself, lacked originality.

Therefore, heading out to Molly McGuire’s Tavern was a fresh idea as none of us had been yet and we were all intrigued. As Ralf jumped in his own car in Macarthur Square the rest of us jumped in with Keith as we headed to my house so I could get changed. Shawn also mentioned that he didn’t have any dress shoes to wear so I offered to let him borrow mine for the night.

Cargo Pants Converts

Speaking of clothing and setting trends, I can’t believe how both Keith and Shawn are changing their tunes to the clothes I wear. When I first started wearing my cargo pants and we were playing cards up in ‘Subway’ Keith always made jokes of how I looked gay in what I was wearing and “Only gay people wear cargo pants”. Keith was trying to put me down because he was envious as always is the case.

Shawn even joined in with the mocking derision as the both of them had a go at my heading out to ‘Byblos’ and my being able to fit in because I looked gay enough. Now I’ve made Keith and Shawn eat their words back up because both of them want to buy the same sort of clothing that I have. Last night Keith asked me where I got my cargo pants from and he also inquired about my rubber belt.

When I mentioned that he used to think cargo pants were gay he uttered “No, we were only mucking around but I never said that”. Shawn was also one to force feed his own insults as he’s one who also wants to invest $250 in club clothing, inspired by what I let him wear. Shawn’s getting $250 for his damaged motorcycle off his cousin and he wants to buy some black clothing from Hound Dog or some other trend store.

So there you have it, both of them are now trying to fit into the trends that Ace, Tyler and myself always wear. When you think about it, they’re conforming because they can sense the gap between us and how Tyler, Ace and I have taken a liking to each other because we have the same taste in clothes. Keith is never the one to miss out so he wants to try and fit in and Shawn just liked how the clothes looked on him, probably always having a secret agenda to buy club clothes but always believing they were for pretentious or gay people.

Getting Ready To Go

Anyway, as we headed to my house I clothed myself in my Hound Dog pants, baby blue shirt and my polo neck sweater. The reason I took my sweater was because Keith thought it was a collar only Tavern but later in the night I was to prove him wrong.

Letting Shawn borrow my shoes we headed to Keith’s house and as he changed into his club clothes and leather jacket I placed Brylcreem thoroughly though my hair. Shawn also gave Brylcreem a try but he found his hair to just spoof up. Having a good old laugh at his expense he washed it back out and wore the charity of Keith who let Shawn have one of his old jumpers.

Ralf Takes The Wheel

When Keith was done getting ready we headed to the cars and the biggest mistake of the night was made. Just hearing Keith become his usual selfish self gave me a headache and the words “Ralf can drive” drilled through my head for the whole night. Agreeing to his proposal we all trudged into Ralf’s car and as the door slammed behind me, I could hear the little tune of death in the back of my head, “dun dun du-dun, da da da da da dun dun”.

Worse came to worse in the longest hellish drive of nagging bitchiness I only thought possible from a woman on her most prothane PMS day. Ralf was incredibly demanding and bullish in his absurdity. When Phoenix gave Keith a call and told him that there was a party at her house Ralf was his usual headstrong self shouting “This is my car, we’re going to Molly’s and that’s it, if you don’t like it, get out”.

Shawn and I sat in the back, looking at each other with hysterical disbelief wondering how someone could take advantage of their personal dominance just so that person can feel like the sovereign authority. Keith should know by now that when you go in Ralf’s car you have no privilege or say in where the car will sojourn. Ralf’s tenacity even stemmed to the point of warning me not to flick the hand rests when in reality it was only an accident. I tried telling that to Ralf but because he likes to be in control he persistently kept repeating himself, obstinate amongst the realms of dominance.

Sonya Rings About A Party

More on that phone call from Phoenix. It happened just as we were going to jump into Ralf’s car and at the time none of us really felt too intensely interested in heading to Molly’s. At the time, it felt like a featherweight idea that was a tad better would have capsized our night at Molly’s but Phoenix’s party wasn’t to be so. It was actually Sonya who talked to Keith on the phone at first in which she told Keith straight out that there was a party at Phoenix’s house.

When Keith asked to speak to Phoenix I think he found that she was still at work. However, Sonya uttered something about being over Phoenix’s house and I felt it was an obvious disguise to Phoenix’s hopeful plans. All along I thought that Phoenix was making us interested so that we would turn up at her house but there would be no one there but her, just as she hoped to plan. However, her house was never vacant and I realize to some degree that those might not have been her plans.

After a while on the telephone Sonya started to say that we weren’t invited to the party and her ringing up and telling us just didn’t make any sense at all. Keith and Shawn were visibly persistent and restless as they wanted to head to Phoenix’s house before going to Molly’s so we could check out this party. This is where Ralf was being his tenacious self by denying Keith or Shawn their say in where the car was headed. For fear to speak out against Ralf’s decision mixed in with not being bothered to listen to his babbling shit Keith and Shawn kept quiet, abiding by Ralf’s wish.

I myself wasn’t flustered in either decision as the both of them sounded half-interesting to me. Whatever intentions I had I didn’t showcase them as Keith and Shawn did but rather, I kept an open mind and that’s as far as I took it. I might have been thinking thoughts of how there could be a reoccurring event of when the bunch of us last got with Phoenix in a bedroom situation but I didn’t express my eagerness to see if we could attempt it again. Therefore, even though we literally passed where Phoenix was working Ralf was too obnoxious in his ways.

Parking Near The Police Station

Arriving in Camden Ralf was trying to look around for a parking spot. The main street was piled with cars but I noticed a valid parking spot right out the front of Molly’s, I mean right there. However, it seemed to go in one ear and out the other for Ralf as he came up to a roundabout and instead of turning back he turned down a side street and decided to park near the cop-shop.

Keith turned around to look at me with a surprised grin on his face and I knew he could only be thinking what I was thinking, “How sheep-headed is this guy not to take in what I had just said”. Send Ralf to the gallows, for we nor need his company or his gratuitous attitude. Parking the car I jumped out of an area where I couldn’t maneuver around someone’s big head.

The thick sense of lifeless air encrusted with petals of freezing rime upon my fogging breath had me feeling the wintry weave early. As per usual with these expensive designer label clothes, they don’t seem to do their apportioned job. My polo neck sweater is supposed to keep me warm but I was considerably agitated by the cool breeze and now my shoes from Politix which cost me $180 have started to wear and tear after two weeks. Fashion comes at a twofold cost, the actual price and the price of feeling uncomfortable for the sake of fashion.

Through The Door

Heading to the doors of Molly McGuire’s Tavern around 11:00 p.m. we were hoping that this time around we would be allowed in. Hopeful as we were that we wouldn’t have to pay my hunch was correct that it would cost at least five dollars. The three of them paid first as I started getting my money out of my pocket, having only my identification in the other one.

The security at the door was eyeing me over and as I tried to be oblivious to his keen interest in my clothing I could gather he was thinking someone on the lines of my being overdressed for Molly’s. Erupting into some small talk about the cold weather as to shed some warmth to our frictional welcome I made my way inside. The rule of having to wear a collar was completely false but as we walked past the pub part and into the small nightclub area I was content to leave my sweater permanently affiliated with my indulgent skin.

My first impressions of Molly McGuire’s Tavern was a mixed reaction. Rifling out to the sides of the doors as we stood to attention I noticed the live band kicking up a fuss of dancers below them. The lady singer who was around 21 years of age had a nice blue dress on and every time her mane of blonde hair would flick up with her stamping feet we would be teased in almost seeing what color her underwear was, if any.

The people on the dancefloor weren’t too dressed up, well the guys weren’t but when are they ever. With the four of us rightly dressed up for an upper class atmosphere I felt somewhat out of place and I knew that it wasn’t really my scene. I was pleased that I had the option of covering my baby blue club shirt because then I wouldn’t have felt intimidated as to being the only stand-out guy.

However, I was restricted by having my sweater on because I knew that I would kick up a quick sweat if I danced. Therefore, if I did dance it couldn’t have been for a long duration because in everyone’s eyes I would have looked like the idiot who was too attached to the black Mafia look.

Ace At The Petrol Station

Oh yeah, that just reminded me that we stopped off at Ace’s Petrol Station on the way to Molly’s. As Ralf filled up the car he came out, sat in the driver’s seat of Ralf’s new Calais and had a chat with the three of us. As he asked the usual questions of where we were going and what our plans were he turned to me and mentioned “You really like that black look don’t you, the Mafia hit-man look”.

Revealing the baby blue top underneath my layers of black he pointed his fingers in acceptance and smiled. It seemed to me that Ace was itching for connection between us, some sort of bond. He would talk to everyone but I just felt that Ace would be looking to turn to me so he could casually chat about something. I figure his intrigue draws parallels with my allure to his enchantment.

I think that Ace is a cut above the rest with the clothes he wears, how he showcases himself and how he’s someone that most people strive to be. In some way, I think Ace feeds off those beliefs regarding me and as I think he is an inspiration, he probably feels I am one to be admired for the way I represent myself.