I'm taking the plunge. I'm blogging. I can hardly believe that I am doing this, but since I am a person with opinions on just about everything, blogging fits.
As most of my friends and family know, last weekend I began working a part-time job as a cashier in a bar. My brother considers me part of his security team, in other words, a bouncer, but I think of my role as the money handler. It's a good thing that I'm paid in cash at the end of every evening because I would never want to put this on my resume.
By nature, I'm a people watcher, and this new gig allows me to observe southern humanity in Mississippi's most natural environment, the redneck bar. However, observances of patrons shall come later. For now, let's set the stage.
My new place of employment is called The Boondocks, subtle huh? The Boondocks resides in a building that was originally meant to house a resturant, probably what southerns most enjoy in their fatty dietary needs, a steak and fish house. This structure reigns on prime reality in the central hub of a small Mississippian town, next door to the local Dollar General store. Yet, where this magestic building once leaked the sizzling aroma of cooking meat to the surrounding community, it now contributes rhythmic sounds of loud music, tire slinging gravel, and drunken parking-lot brawls to the nightly rituals of the once slumbering, but now sleep-deprived residents.
Inside, The Boondocks decor can be described as charmingly rustic. Worn out work boots nailed to the walls, a life-size portrait of Elvis, and pieces of old bicycles present a junkyard appeal to the noble patrons, reminding them of their creature comforts of home. The central point of festivities is, of course, the bar, which is adorned with a decorative awning, held up by raw cedar trees. Four hundred, or more, indigenous species, most of whom smoke, lend a mystical aura to the ambiance of this regal dwelling on a nightly basis. I am sorry that I cannot adequately guess the color of the ceiling or the walls due to habitual actions of the patrons, who obviously garner the esteem of Phillip Morris.
The Boondocks is located outside the Tupelo city limits; so, therefore it is one of the few places available to continue getting drunk. Due to a city law, the bars in Tupelo are mandated to shut down at midnight, leaving revelers to continue their partying elsewhere, thus bringing about the significance of The Boondocks. Since The Boondocks is situated only five minutes from the Tupelo city limits and remains open, serving liquor until 2:00 a.m., its clientele creates an interesting mixture, a social experience one would not assume to be found in Mississippi. In short, The Boondocks does not discriminate on race, creed, sex, nationality, or disability. It is an equal opportunity bar, servicing all walks of life and then some. What other redneck bar in Mississippi can claim the same?
This distinguished establishment does require a fee to enter. Customers aged twnety-one and over pay $5.00. Customers between the ages of eighteen and twenty pay $10.00. The bar serves beer and cheap wine, but if a customer wishes to drink hard liquor, then he or she must BYOB (bring your own bottle), paying an additional fee of $5.00 per bottle upon entry.
Because of the diversity of the clientele, there is a diversity in the music. If one does not like Hank Williams, Jr., singing "If You Don't Like Hank Williams, You Can Kiss My A$$," then he or she only has to wait a few minutes to hear Buck Cherry's "Crazy B!tch" or Flo Rida's "Low." By midnight, the dance floor is so packed that the dancers are not individuals, but one body moving to the beat of the music.
The Boondocks is an enigma for a Mississippi redneck bar, but amazingly, it works. There are some fights, but in general, everyone is at The Boondocks to have a good time, getting along with his or her fellow sots.
I hope that I have painted a vivid picture, setting the stage for the characters/customers to distinguish themselves through forthcoming blogs. Of course, I will not limit my musings to just happenings at The Boondocks, but I felt it was a worthy subject for my first blog.
For evidence that The Boondocks really exists, you can check out its MySpace page at myspace.com/downatboondocks.com.
Please excuse all grammar mistakes in this blog. I didn't get home until 4:30 a.m. this morning after my shift at The Boondocks, and I've only had a few hours of sleep.
