In a little hick town just between here and the
city, whose name loosely
translates to English as "Cowtown," there's a
Denny's right off the freeway. Like a cancerous
growth sprouting off th back, there's a small bulge that doesn't quite look like it belongs. You
walk in to the
restaurant and into the hall marked "Restrooms."
There are three choices there. Men, women, and in a handwritten sign duct taped to the third
door, the
Hideaway Saloon.
My friends were first made aware of this place when their car broke down one night.
The
tow truck driver dropped them off there, giving the bar the highest recommendations. The same
tow truck driver showed back up 4 hours later once they had produced a valid AAA card.
He asked, "Did you see the cute little blond thing in there?"
My friends tell him yes, and all the things they'd like to do to her.
He said, "Well, that's my
sister. But I'd probably do her too if we wasn't related."
This is the Hideaway Saloon.
There are three pool tables inside, a few plastic tables surrounded by lawn chairs.
Pints of
domestic are $2.00 on Fridays. The game was on the single TV hanging above the bar. We suspect
the place isn't licensed. There is no exterior door, no ingress or egress sans the Denny's
restroom hallway.
There is one of those claw machine games in there, the kind you use to try and pick out a
stuffed bear for your sweetie at the movies and inevitably fail, giving up ten dollars later.
This machine did not only contain bears, however. It contained bears, fuzzy handcuffs, and porn
dvds.
And all of a sudden, it hit me.
My
girlfriend has mentioned a few times that she was in a porn, once, and it's always kind of
bothered me. I've never been fully comfortable with it, and she's never really seemed ashamed
about it. She's mostly stopped mentioning it because she sees it bothers me.
And I thought, what if one of those DVDs is my girlfriend, fucking some trashy porn guy on tape.
What if some redneck is standing at that machine, drunk on Friday night on two dollar pints of
Miller, picking out DVDs? Picking out DVDs of my girlfriend,
fucking.
What if he goes home to his double wide, with a DVD of her. I'm a photographer,
and at times I've been tempted to take a picture of my girlfriend asleep, because she falls
asleep so easily and peacefully, on park benches and in the passenger seat of my car. She looks like an angel, so innocent. But I
don't, because I tell myself, "
No, some things are for my eyes only. This is one of them."
But maybe it isn't. Maybe some patron of the Hideaway Saloon is dropping quarters in the claw
machine right now, moving the hanging claw over the DVD. My girlfriend. Fucking.
I hope I'm not being too
sensitive.