Homestead Lounge

Imagine driving around your neighbourhood with the only intent to get your job done and nothing else. Well, I was doing that one day, but I chanced upon a place called Homestead Lounge. This is the exact image you would see in a b grade Hollywood flick.

The place where the cigarette smoke hangs in the air, the smell of beer below that and loud guffaws and weird laughs. And outside, you have bikers with a leather jacket, a pot belly and their female companions, who look more like males. Now in our b grade flick, the main protagonist, with a lit cigarette in his mouth, walks in to a room where rednecks and well endowed, leather clad lady's stare at him with an intent to kill. Our hero walks to the bar and orders a beer/shot of something which the bar tender throws at him. As he walks around, a drunk tries to start a fight...and so on..you get the picture.

When I saw the Homestead lounge and the broken cocktail sign outside, flickering like a fly zapper would, I wondered if I should venture inside. I guess a brown dude is sure to stand out. This thought and life got in between and I did not bother to get in for the 3 years I have been in that country. But a couple of weeks back, I did. "Will these people stare at me like they do in the movies?" I wondered. "What the heck.." I told myself as I stepped in. I was greeted by an old lady who would make a good model for Botox. With a drink in one hand and a pack of camels in the other, she fit the bill of a b grade stereotype. She gave me a smile and with a voice marred by years of cigarette smoking she said "hi there". So far so good, I thought and went to the counter, choosing a chair in between the old lady and a middle aged guy who though he was a dude.

Went ahead and ordered my beer, a Sam Adams and started to explore the new surroundings. It was not too crowded that day. I started to watch some American football on TV and the dude next to me started to ask me a question about the game like I was playing it for years. I excused myself for my ignorance and then the conversation went towards formula 1. "That's not bad" I thought, so far so good.

Why discussing the F1 scenario, a bystander pitched in his 2 cents starting with 4 letter words. This was getting interesting. The conversation moved to the outside now as it was time for a cigarette and this is when I got to know these guys names and have a real freaky conversation.
The dude's name was "Beau" and the bystanders name was "Riche". Then there was "Mike", the wrinkled old guy who stood in one corner with a Que stick and hoped that someone would play with him. I am guessing Riche was drunk when he started talking about spirit and choice and freedom and ...get the picture. Dude wanted to prove him wrong and started on a tangential note. While this was going on, I got myself another beer and sat in the side lines having a good time.

After a couple of hours of mindless banter, Riche bought me a beer and asked me if I would play pool with him. Shot a couple of balls and it was 1 AM by then. As I was saying my goodbyes Riche, I guess, wanted me to hang around more. He offered to buy me one more drink. I refused, thanking him and headed out as a couple of hardcore redneck bikers arrived. Maybe I should have stayed back for some more time. But nahh...

And that is the Homestead Lounge. For easy times with your favorite drink.