Around six o’clock, Washington starts drinking. That’s six o’clock in the evening, of course, except on Capitol Hill. And so it was around six p.m. yesterday that I was escorted to a watering hole located in one of the many high-rise hotels that cluster along US Route 1, or Jefferson Davis Highway as they so charmingly call it in Virginia, just next to the Pentagon in a place named Crystal City. It was there I found a cozy, well-upholstered piano bar with a magnificent view of the Pentagon, the Air Force Memorial and several of the great marble monuments on the other side of the Potomac.
An Army colonel, with whom I had spent the better part of the day in meetings, invited me, and none too subtly at that. Yeah, my gaydar was screaming, every needle pegged to the max (all my internal instrumentation uses D’Arsonval movements – call me old fashioned, but that’s what I like). Still, I figured, hey, it’s not like he invited me to his home for drinks, is it?
And it was most definitely a gay piano bar. No doubt about that. There was nothing there but guys, with the usual notable exception – a little knot of fruit flies clustered around the piano, their carefully crafted retro girly drinks in hand, harmonizing on appropriately retro standards. They were doing “Someone to Watch Over Me” when my host and I arrived, smiling like Judy Garland and batting their eyelashes at the Marine major who was tickling the ivories in accompaniment. Yep, he was handsome, things were romantic as all get out and the fruit flies were safe – women with a need for entertaining male companionship and no desire for physical intimacy with men. I guess it beats having drunk morons in mullets trying to rape you on the dance floor at Kangaroo Katie’s. They looked happy, the major looked happy, and the rest of the patrons looked pretty happy too – no sex please, we’re fruit flies.
Then I noticed something – not strange, really, but certainly distinctive. All the men (except me, of course) were in military uniforms. Obviously, this was the kind of gay military piano bar where, if you didn’t ask them if it was a gay military piano bar, they certainly wouldn’t tell you.
I soon learned why my host had invited me – today was a very special occasion. One of the regulars, a very well-known and popular fellow, had just been promoted to Rear Admiral, Lower Half. That’s the Navy’s equivalent of a Brigadier General – one star.
At the conclusion of the fruit flies’ serenade, my host strode over and whispered to the Marine major, who smiled broadly and nodded. Then my host took the mike briefly to announce the special occasion and introduce the Man of the Hour. As he approached, several gents, all officers from various branches of the service (even a Coastie) formed a small Greek chorus behind him. Seizing the microphone like seasoned pro, the gentleman, resplendent in his new admiral’s uniform, called a key (B-flat) snapped off a tempo and tore into his number with all the enthusiasm of a Broadway star. The tune was classic Gilbert and Sullivan, from “Pinafore,” as I recall, and his Greek chorus provided the requisite responses quite impressively, too:
When I was a lad I bathed in [expletive]
And that got me a billet at Annapolis.
‘Twas most the unpleasant thing I’d done
‘Till a One-C showed me how to make it fun.
Well, I bathed in [expletive] so lustily, that now I am a admiral in the Bush Navy!
(He bathed in [expletive] so lustily, that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
As a midshipman I sniffed for [expletive]
Around the Commandant’s private parts.
I serviced the officers’ odd demand
And whacked all their [expletive] with a big round hand.
(He whacked all their [expletive] with a big round hand!)
Well I whacked their [expletive] with a hand so free that now I am admiral in the Bush Navy!
(He whacked all their [expletive] with a hand so free, that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
At sucking [expletive] I made such a name,
That a brave commander I soon became;
I wore clean jocks and sprayed my kit,
And gave my captain a place to sit.
I pleased my captain with thighs so twee, that now I am an admiral in the Bush Navy.
(He pleased his captain with thighs so twee, that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
Of legal matters I cared not a bit,
‘Cause I knew old Georgie didn’t give a [expletive].
And knowing that’s true empowered me too,
And made me aggressive on the ocean blue.
(He did aggressive things upon the ocean blue!)
I was so aggressive upon the sea, that now I am an admiral in the Bush Navy.
(He was so aggressive upon the sea, that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
Then those wussies at the NIC
Betrayed our President heartlessly.
They promulgated an NIE
On nuclear weapons capability
That said with virtual certainty they’ve got no nuclear capacity.
(It said with no uncertainties Iran just hasn’t any WMDs!)
In the Gulf I caused such a nasty stir
That tongues began wagging and eyes to blur.
I shot at Iranians left and right,
And got promoted promptly almost overnight!
(He got promoted promptly almost overnight!)
Well I shot things up so handily, that now I am an admiral in the Bush Navy!
(He shot things up so handily, that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
So as captain of a very large ship
Cruising the Gulf on an ocean trip,
Along the coast of old Iran
I did my duty as a good Bush man.
So many gunboats I caused to flee that now I am an admiral in the Bush Navy!
(So many gunboats he caused to flee that now he is an admiral in the Bush Navy!)
I’m only Rear Admiral Lower Half,
A rank designation that makes folks laugh.
But if I supply an excuse for a fight,
I know the President will treat me right!
(He knows the President will treat him right!)
With as big a promotion as any could be, George will make me Ruler of the Bush Navy!
(With as big a promotion as any could be, George will make him Ruler of the Bush Navy!)
As the song concluded, the Greek chorus executed a perfect ensemble ritardando as the admiral joined in with a soaring high descant harmony. That brought the house down, naturally. Frankly, you could pay a considerable amount of money here or in New York and not get the kind of quality that bunch of amateurs was giving away for nothing in that piano bar last night.
My host told me that the tradition is, every time a regular gets promoted, he has to sing a song at the piano and then buy drinks for the house. I must say this newly minted Rear Admiral was a real good sport about that tradition, both in the song performance and drink buying departments. The next tradition is that all the other regulars chip in and buy the honoree a little something. Since he was promoted to admiral, this fellow got a very nice wristwatch engraved “Congratulations, Admiral, from the all the members of the Club.” Just cryptic enough so no awkward explanations will ever be needed. Oh yeah, and then there was cake and champagne, both of which were excellent.
Unfortunately, after all that alcohol, my friendly host started getting a bit too friendly, if you know what I mean. He tried to pick me up, actually. So I did what I always do – explain that I’m metrosexual, not gay. He was disappointed, but he took it like a trooper. Nevertheless, I thought it best to excuse myself while things still had an air of cheer about them. So, with the fruit flies sweetly crooning “Mood Indigo,” I bid the comfy little piano bar in Crystal City adieu.
Nice place, though. I just can’t help wondering, how come there are hardly any straight bars like that?