On December 3, I grabbed three girlfriends and spent Saturday night at a honky tonk – well, as close as you can get to a honky tonk in Iowa City. A friend had told me that they had a great cover band playing, so I figured it would be a fun way to get my country fix. Little did I know that the entertainment wasn’t limited to the stage. I used this opportunity as a bit of a social experiment. I tweeted about my night as much as possible without trying to look like a rude, out of place, city-slicker. I quoted my friends reactions, what I saw, and who I talked to. Let’s just say, my heeled, Target boots were out of place next to the regulars.
“I feel like I’m in footloose” first quote of the night.
Country music fills the air as we walk into a dance floor with people line dancing. A lot of cowboys hats and plaid.
Green peppers stuffed with cream cheese was my favorite appetizer choice. Almost a vegetable, right?
My friend is currently being hit on by a 30 year old man in cowboy boots and authentic cowboy garb.
Well, it’s the owner.
Just told the owner about my live blog and he looked at my smart phone, shook his head, and said “tweet?”
At exactly 9 Jake Mcvey took the stage and sang his cover of a Kenny Chesney song.
The dance floor hasn’t slowed and I can’t figure out why everybody here knows how to dance like this.
As soon as the song ends everybody leaves the dance floor to get a beer.
Big hair, big belt buckles, big beer bellies.
There are two age groups: people in their 20s and people in their 60s.
There are two styles: Tennessee cowboy and rhinestone cowboy.
The guy double fisting beers when we walked in is now using his dance partner as leverage to keep him verticle.
“wranglers are a requirement to get in here if you are a guy.”
“my TA is here. He wears a white fedora during the day and a cowboy hat at night?”
I couldn’t tweet for awhile because I was dragged onto the dance floor by a guy that seemed as out of place as me.
He was the only one in the bar with tennis shoes on.
The owner came up and asked how the tweets were coming and then reminded me that dance lessons were on Thursdays.
Was that his way of telling me I’m not a good dancer? Well of course I’m not, my partner just “dipped” me into one of the rhinestone cowboys.