DANCING WITH DWARVES-----
My friend Mark was a dwarf yet a giant amongst men, no woman ever intimidated him, inhibitions with the opposite sex were not part of his strange DNA, I guess he figured he had nothing to lose, point made.
I met Mark at a nightclub I was tending bar at; the joint was called the Boulevard and was not far from my home town on Long island. A crazy busy night as usual, I am on a break and return to my spot behind the bar and start doing my thing, at the end of the bar is a new client, I mosey on over and ask the guy whose name turns out to be Mark what he wanted to drink, in those days we had tap beer, he asked for a short beer the vernacular for a small glass of beer, which should have clued me in, it did not, anyway he got it. He was kind of odd looking, he was pulled in close to the bar so I only had a torso and head view, the head seemed a bit oversized but I have a high forehead myself , and I thought maybe he was a professional wrestler or offensive football tackle, one or the other for sure I remember thinking, Over the course of the next couple of hours we strike up a conversation, Mark is now drinking tall scotch and sodas, and from conversation it is gleaned that he went to the same High School I did albeit a few years after I did not graduate, we have however many common memories and know a few of the same people, the night is ending and I am busy down around the other corner of the bar when Mark yells out a goodbye from his barstool and goes to depart, I turn and wave back, and then Mark seems to disappear from view, I run over to that area of the bar for I fear he has had too much to drink and has fallen off his bar stool, this happened all the time in that club I might add, I gaze over the bar and look down, no Mark to be seen, then I glance up and see a very short person hips swinging who is bobbing and weaving contentedly away towards the front exit, he turns and waves goodbye again, I am frozen in surprise, jaw drop dead open. This guy is not a professional wrestler or offensive football tackle I remember thinking. Not much gets by me, twice...
A few years later I open my own club in Huntington Long Island: “Mother’s” a Rock N Roll live music kick ass joint, many clients were students at the nearby community college, Mark now a friend, so friendly were we that I called him shorty and he called me baldy, which I considered unfair since he was one hundred percent short and I at that time was only twenty percent bald, but I let the slight slide, it’s just the way I am, anyway Mark is hired to be the bar and bus boy, this however does not work out too well for when he would venture out into that sea of humanity which was the dance floor and bar area to bus tables he always came back injured, in those days everybody smoked, most people kept their lite cigarettes at their sides when dancing or chatting, they could not see Mark coming and he would return with some awful black ash burns covering his body, this by the way was not covered in Mothers workman’s compensation package, in spite of this Mark loved his job, because on his break he would get the opportunity to dance with any number of different local college girls out partying for the night, they were all for it as what could be better on your liberal person resume than to have experienced dancing with a dwarf, not everybody gets that opportunity.
Mark was a clever devil little for he only asked for a dance when a fast song such as Mustang Sally was playing as he knew he would not be denied, so Mark and his new dance partner would be having a grand old time dancing about the length of his body apart, but then? The band without missing a beat would cut right to a slow song, usually to Elvis Presley’s “Are You Lonesome Tonight” (Mark was) the gal a college student in good physical shape and in her early twenties would try and make a beeline to join the pack of her gossiping impressed girlfriends who were witnessing her liberal moments, but Mark would basically throw a downfield block on her negating her dance floor exit strategy , this long before Dwarf Tossing became a thing,then look up at her wantonly with those big blue eyes in that big head and actually give himself a little hug indicating it is time for our slow dance baby, and she was chop meat, sorry honey- nowhere to hide, the little princesses face would turn Snow White, and would get that look on it that I am sure Marie Antoinette’s face got when she gazed into a puddle on the ground from the rain the night before her early morning execution and she saw the reflection of the guillotine above her, worse yet it was halfway down, word is Maries hair turned instantly snow white, though to be honest I never noticed that happening to any of Mark’s dance partner’s hair, only to their once rouged but now snow white faces, and there was no time for that hair transition to kick in any way for he was faster than that guillotine, boom he would wrap his hand around the gals butt cheeks for as far as he knew they were her shoulders, his head to one side of her body or the other, though that did not last long, after a minute or two that head would oh so slowly and sneakily drift center like a giant Arctic glacier calving, Mark had that Oedipus complex, the innate desire to return to his mother’s womb, except he called all girl’s Mommy, the gal would be looking off into the distance for help , help from her mom, from another galaxy or from anybody, it did not matter, for once Mark was at or rather almost in center stage it was like trying to remove a leech from that area without using fire, almost impossible, those scotch’s also made him a bit cantankerous as well, believe me a cantankerous dwarf is nobody to mess with, he refused to leave the womb he had returned to, the only way to pry him loose was to pour a bucket of ice water over his head, which worked.
Ps/ a few days later I walk into Mothers bar just before opening in the early afternoon and there is Mark standing on a barstool, his dance partner from the night before, nnow recently employed as a bartender standing on her tippee toes kissing him passionately. Word was Mark was hung like a Shetland Pony.
Marks other employment stories from Mothers kick ass Rock and Roll bar some another time.
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