A gay club in downtown Boise was recently the unwitting host to a very happily, yet temporarily disharmonized, hetero couple on a busy Saturday night. The children had been spirited away to grandmother's house for the night, so I had the privilege of escorting my wonderful bride to a romantic getaway into Boise for the weekend.
Our day had progressed beautifully, with leisurely strolls through the 8th Street Market in the afternoon, followed by a couple of cool drinks on a patio overlooking the market. The perfect afternoon for a pair of avid people-watchers. These pleasures were topped with an early dinner before retiring to our hotel. The day quickly culminated in the passionate revitalization of our physical bond. Discretion being a virtuous trait, I shall refrain from any further description of this portion the evening.
Herein began a temporary discord. A fundamental difference between man and woman had slithered onto the scene, like a python motivated by malicious intent. Following such an ardent interlude, a woman's thoughts turn to a late evening spent in blissful relaxation nestled beside the object of her passion. I, possessing a simple and uncomplicated mind, quickly determined that it was still early and would be a shame to waste a night in the city by lying around in a hotel room. Discord began.
I somehow managed to convince, persuade, coerce or otherwise compel the love of my life to accompany me back into the night for a nightcap, whereupon we stumbled across a bar. Not knowing my way around Boise and quickly deducting that I had already worn my wife's patience quite thin, I decided we'd stop in for a drink without further hesitation.
The marquis on the place read "Straight Friendly," which should have foretold of my impending enlightenment and introduction into one facet of Boise's nighttime culture. A self-professed cowboy/biker and his bride had just walked into a parallel universe where up was down, right was left, men were women and ladies were men! The establishment's decor, at first glance, appeared as if a '70s disco had been rehabilitated and brought back to life by a professional brothel decorator with an excessive inventory of red velour ... and surprisingly, it worked perfectly.
The atmosphere was lively, fun and exciting, with surprise and laughter in every direction. The drinks were served quickly by friendly and unnervingly flirtatious bartenders. Every table was filled, so we took our drinks and stood by a counter top opposite the bar where we had a good view of the dance floor and resumed the people watching we'd enjoyed so much earlier in the day. The slight discord remained as a semi-permeable barrier between my wife and I, until my misspoken expression of gratitude resulted in a spontaneous eruption of uncontrollable shared laughter. Here, in the middle of this parallel universe, I leaned over and whispered into my wife's ear, "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."
Initially I was confused by my wife's spontaneous outburst of laughter, until finally she temporarily caught her breath, leaned over to my ear and whispered, "Why honey, I had no idea you planned to 'out' yourself tonight!" Discord shattered like delicate crystal under the resulting onslaught of our shared laughter. This particular club apparently "brings out" the best in all of its patrons.