"family"

So, uhm, about the "dyke bar" in Green Bay... here is my version of the story with some creative liberties taken.

The cute waitress at the sushi place (which was amazing) warned us that "Sass" could be, at times, "scary." We asked for clarification and she said "it's enough to turn you straight." She went on to explain that people could be really unfriendly and clique-ish and that you could practically get beat up for just looking at someone the wrong way. Rhonda and I looked at each other and said why not -- it would at least be interesting in a rough-and-tumble kind of way.

So, we headed towards the industrial area -- which, in Green Bay, is practically redundant-- turning right under the overpass and before the train tracks. The bar was almost unmarked -- there were neon signs in the window including some rainbow Bud signs and one that read "Sass" in very small letters.

We prepare our tough-selves to enter this tough bar. We walk in. There is nobody there. just the bar tender. Marissa, I think. We look around and the very, very bare-essentials interior (an old, run down couch in one corner, two pool tables, several video game) and amble over to the bar. Within a minute two more women (probably younger, looked like they play softball) come in and sit at the opposite end of the bar. We order drinks, and birthday girl gets a free shot. I am completely and totally distracted by the fact that there are multiple TVs on and I can't match up the sound with the image. Needless to say I am not the best bar-companion. At some point, after the tequila and gin and tonics settle into her blood stream, Rhonda begins lamenting the situation: "Why isn't there anyone here? Where are all the dykes? Are there only four dykes in Green Bay? I WANT EYE CANDY!" The latter, of course, is so unlike Rhonda that I begin laughing hysterically and practically fall off of the bar stool. As I look around to reassess the situation, my eyes are drawn to the fact that the woman closest to us is nursing a plastic bottle. My eyes then fall to the bar where I see her tin of chewing tobacco next to her drink. I swivel back to rhonda and report back that dykes in Wisconsin CHEW TOBACCO. Rhonda, as amazed, squints her eyes to peer through the dark and sees the bottle in hand. She squeals like a little girl and says "oh my god, ewwwww. gross."

We soon after left the bar and headed to the grocery store. We stocked up on two weeks worth of food and headed back to our little house. We were home and in bed by midnight; I'm sure that the scene at Sass was just beginning to get interesting.