Dancing Queen

I knew things were gonna get innerestin' last night when the first woman Starr Ann and I saw as we entered the bar was Siqala Du Chenne, president of our town's chapter of the Kentucky Society of Line Dancing Lesbians. Siqala's a looker, and to her credit she's never let the fact that she's the leader of a group of over 3,000 dancing lesbians, that wields tremendous lobbying power within the state government, go to her head. But even with all that going for her, the sight of Siqala still makes Starr Ann want to run in the opposite direction.

See, Starr Ann has this real alluring way about her when she dances. Walking up there, Starr Ann seems about like any other adorable cowgirl with a real cute butt peeping out of chaps that fit just right. Then, say they start playing Patsy Cline singing San Antonio Rose. Well, first Starr Ann gets to swaying all light and dreamy then the music just starts to noodle right through her body and before you know it hardly nobody can take their eyes off her. I know I sure can't.

Anyway, Siqala's life just won't be complete until she gets Starr Ann to join the Kentucky Society of Line Dancing Lesbians. Every time we run into Siqala, Starr Ann spends half the night thinking up new ways to decline without hurting Siqala's feelings.

So last night, Siqala tried a new tack that nearly worked. She just swooped in on us the minute we walked in the door, hooked her arm in Starr Ann's, and swooshed her off into the corner. About three minutes later, here comes Starr Ann over to tell me she'd agreed to learn a set of steps and dance with them. Seems Siqala gave Starr Ann some sob story about how they were real short on Line Dancing Lesbians that night, what with only about four hundred or so showing up. Siqala said the floor was gonna look positively deserted. Starr Ann said Siqala's voice broke real pitiful when she spoke of how it was gonna look like acres and acres of bare wood out there on that dance floor.

I found myself a table with a good view. No way was I gonna miss a second of watching Starr Ann dance according to a set pattern, fitting in with everybody else.

Siqala had Starr Ann over to the side, teaching her the moves they'd be using for the first song and I was getting comfortable, just about finished with my first drink, when somebody comes up right beside me, puts a fresh shot of tequila and a face down unopened envelope in front of me, and says, "Mind if I sit, Margo?"

I looked up to see Lori standing there holding a fancy schmancy glass of something, so I pulled out the chair beside me and said, "Heck, no, Lori. What in the world is that you're drinking?"

Tossing a careless glance at her glass, Lori said, "Russian River Pino, 2005."

"Dang, they're serving that here at the Velvet Tipper? Seems like just a couple months ago they got that extra tap for Coors Light."

"That would have been my second choice," Lori said, and nodded in the direction of Siqala and Starr Ann. "What's up with that?"

I looked over in time to see Starr Ann perfectly imitate one of Siqala's moves, which made Siqala smile big. "Siqala's finally done it. Talked Starr Ann into dancing with the Line Dancing Lesbians."

Lori settled in, took a discerning sip of whatever that was, and said, "Well, all I know is, it's always pure pleasure to watch Starr Ann dance." Then she tapped the envelope and said, "Came looking for you two on purpose tonight, thinking you'd want to read that right away."

I had to laugh when I saw it was a letter from Lane, to Starr Ann and me, but once again mistakenly addressed to Lori's address. "After all that girl's been through, you know, it makes me happy to see she still ends up doing such teenager things, like not being able to get the address right."

Since the dancing didn't seem to be getting ready to start very soon, I went ahead and opened the letter. Lori and I read it together. Here's what it said:

Hi Starr Ann, Hi Margo!

Well, this letter comes to you all the way from Walter Reed. Things have been crazy and I haven’t had a lot of time to write. Well, I’ve been writing, but not to anyone I know personal-like. I spent a whole bunch of time in the library here and found out that I like the Internet something fierce. I found this website on how to find your congressperson and senators and such and I wrote me a few letters about my holding pattern here. Talked about a few of the things I saw over there too. And, I told them about Jamila and how there wasn’t any need to take her so soon.

Well, that got me a call from the post judge advocate. Wanted to know why I didn’t go through the chain-of-command and got kinda’ annoyed with me. Heard from someone that it doesn’t make them look real good when they have to hear about something from the back end like that. I’ve heard story after story about things gone wrong here. Suicides and stuff. Not good.

So, I spent some time talking to a few folks who hadn’t planned on needing to talk to me. Brought up the fact that they’ve kept me here so long. My leg is as good as it’s going to get after four surgeries, so they started processing me for a military disability pension. Won’t never be running any more races, but I’ll still be able to ride my horse, so I guess that’s all that matters, huh? Could be a while before I hear. What they finally decided was that my PTSD can be treated on an out-patient basis and with some medication. Medication., my ass. I’m on medication for this and for that and for another thing. Apparently, I’m a little pissed off at them here and therapy isn’t doing much. They have me lined up to see a VA counselor when I get back.

Wait, I wasn’t going to tell you that yet. Yup, I get 30 days convalescent leave while they process my discharge and pension stuff, then I get sent home. I hear tell that if I get “lucky” and get 30% or more disability, I can go to college free – with a bad limp and a lot of pain, but free.

Wanted to run this by you two. Thought I’d hop a plane to Dallas and check in with the VA there and start that therapy. Maybe stay with Jamila’s family for a bit. I wrote to them too and they want to have me for a while. I figure if I spend some time there, maybe I can hear about Jamila when she was a kid and stuff and keep her alive in me a while longer. Would you guys be hurt if I did that instead of coming straight back?

Let me know. I miss and (gulp) love you guys.

Lane

Right as Lori and I finished reading, the music got louder and the Line Dancing Lesbians were lined up and moving. It was real nice to see them all stepping and swinging and twirling in time. And Starr Ann did real good. Nobody could have told she just learned the steps that very night. Another thing nobody could have told was the magic that usually happens when Starr Ann dances.

Lori tapped my arm and said, "What's wrong with Starr Ann? I usually get goosebumps watching her move."

I said, "I know," and we just kept on watching the dancers a while. Then I leaned over and said, "So, I think there's some real hopeful signs in Lane's letter."

Lori's eyes were still on Starr Ann, so I dropped the subject of Lane's letter and went back to watching the dancing. Then the song ended and Martina McBride's Independence Day started up. Starr Ann was in line, and started moving with everybody else, but that ain't a song about patriotism, and it has nothing to do with staying in line. By the time the first 'Let freedom ring' hit, Starr Ann had broken loose and the music was working its way through her. Before it was over, half the Line Dancing Lesbians were still going through their motions, but even they couldn't take their eyes off of Starr Ann. Told you. Once the music noodles through that girl, she's a sight to see.

After that dance, Starr Ann came over to the table to say hi to Lori. She spotted Lane's letter right away, and said all in a rush, "Lane! What's she got to say? Is she gonna be okay?"

With absolute confidence, Lori said, "That girl tames about as easy as you, Starr Ann. I'm thinking that's what's going to get her through."

I totally believe that.

Halloween Night, 5 Years Ago

Five years ago, my best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) and I were dodging Trick-or-Treaters on our way home and wishing we'd waited to set out after the Halloween festivities died down. All of a sudden, this kid dressed as kd lang from that one video where she's singing Miss Chatelaine, ingenius costume really, came running from between two houses and just about scared the horses to death. That did it. Starr Ann said we should just go to the local lesbian bar and play a few games of pool until the streets cleared off.

We were minding our own business, playing Eight Ball, drinking tea, when this band of lesbians dressed as pirates came swaggering in like they owned the place.

Starr Ann happened to be up at the bar getting refills when they arrived, and being friendly and perceptive like my Starr Ann is, she said, "Hi, do you own the place?"

According to Starr Ann, that piratey lesbian gave her a real unfriendly look and walked away. So we decided to leave them alone after that.

But you know how, in a lesbian bar, you can't really be all that unconscious of what the others are doing? Well, we spotted the leader of this bunch right away. All the others called her Cap'n, and she had this walk that left no doubt about whether you needed to be getting out of her way. You did.

So these pirate-dressed lesbians dispersed to pursue their various interests and the leader came right over to our table. She watched us take a few shots, and then she put down her fifty cents. Well, since she'd obviously be playing either Starr Ann or me, depending on who won, I thought it would be good to be friendly.

I had a three ball run, and as Starr Ann took her shot, I eased on over to the pirate, still watching Starr Ann's very nice bank into the corner. I said, "Like your costume."

This woman's height increased by about two inches as she drew herself up, and she said, "Iffin' it be Costume Compliments ye be About, Me Sweetling, then it be Me Self Who should Be Sayin' how Easy yer Own be on th'Eye." Then she looked me square in the eyes and said, "This lesbian Pirate Queen n'er plays at Dress-Up, Poppet. Have no idea what ye be talkin' about."

First of all, I had no idea what she was trying to say. Second, I did pick up that she didn't say eyes, which demonstrated how deep into her character she was, as she was wearing an eyepatch, so eye was accurate.

I said, "Oh," and was a little tempted to let Starr Ann win, just so I didn't have to play this tall, rather strappin' Cap'n person.

But I can't deliberately let Starr Ann win anything. It's just too demeaning. So, I ended up hitting a very nice stride and won big. Starr Ann high-fived me like we always do and gestured over at the pirate lesbian. She said real low, "Okay for me to go play some darts? Or do you want me to stay?"

I said, "Pfff! I'm not afraid of some lesbian dressed up like a pirate."

On her way over to the dart board, Starr Ann passed my opponent and said, "Like your costume."

The piratey one said, "Well, Th' Cap'n was just remarkin' t'yer Fine Friend here, Me Mighty Heart Rustler, that even though lesbian Pirates really don't quite go for playin' dress-up, it be fine for anyone else who desires t'be doin' so. Still, Th' Cap'n is not quite certain-sure as t'what ye an' yer friend are supposed t'be."

Starr Ann and I exchanged a half-frown, half-smile before Starr Ann replied, "You think we're wearing costumes?" Both of us tipped our hats back on our heads and laughed. This woman, fetching as she was, just made no sense.

Then she said, "Th' Cap'n has just made port here for a dram o'rum an' t'take yer money playin' this game - it be what Pirates do, y'know."

Finally, a crystal clear statement. This pretend pirate thought she had a big enough game to beat me? For money?

I put her challenge quarters in the slot and said, "Rack 'em, Cap'n. And make 'em tight."

Gotta say, I never played so well in my life. But at the end of twelve whole games, we were still dead even.

Starr Ann had been ready to leave for over an hour, so I said, "Thirteenth game, My Fine Strappin' Cap'n. Kind of a fitting number to end it on, being Halloween, don't you think? I suggest the winner of this one takes it all."

Cap'n Dyke looked at me with an upraised eyebrow. "Thirteen just happens t'be Me Lucky Number, Me Magnificent Margo, an' Th Cap'n be known for Her Game, as well as for Her Skill. As t'Winner takin' All - 'twould be Me Distinct an' Most Humble Pleasure to Do So - when Me Self beats Ye Soundly."

I said, "Well held, Cap'n." Heh, guess I'm a little impressionable. And I added, "May the best cowgirl win." There went the eyebrow again.

That had to be the longest, hardest fought game in the history of our little bar, The Velvet Tipper. We were down to the eight ball. It was my turn - one of those tricky rail hugging shots almost the whole length of the table. I called the obvious corner and just as I went for it, one of the lesbian Pirate Queen's crew flashed a tiny mirror so it glinted right in my eyes. The eight ball glanced very slightly against the rail and missed by half an inch. But the flash had also caused me to put a teensy bit too much on the cue ball itself and it proceeded to plop right into the side pocket. Scratched on the eight ball. Game over. Game to lesbian Pirate Queen.

Cap'n Dyke was as gracious a winner as you could ever ask for. And no, I didn't bring up that thing about the mirror, even though I knew it was intentional. Cap'n Dyke didn't know a thing about it and I wasn't about to squeal or be a bad loser.

Of course, Starr Ann and I ended up adoring the Cap'n. These days, she docks her ship, Th'Mound, and brings her sloop up the Ohio River once or twice a year to visit Happy Hands Ranch. Can't wait to write about her next visit, because I'm gonna beat her butt at pool. Fair and square.