Here in Beaumont, we have an area of clubs and restaurants known as Crockett Street. A couple of friends and I decided to go out one night and our goal from the start of the evening was to go to the Black Cat to dance. We started with dinner at the Spindletop and then went to TEN for martini's (try the Sugar Baby, it's delicious). We left TEN around 9:30 p.m. which was still too early to go to the Black Cat. We, therefore, proceeded to the Dixie (country dancehall) for a while before eventually ending up at the Star Bar to play pool. After a couple of games of pool, we decided to go back to the Dixie where we met up with another friend, Stallone (not his real name).
The four of us sat around for a while and Britney (not her real name) mentioned that she was almost out of gas and hoped she could make it all the way home. By this time, it's around midnight but Fabio (also not his real name) decides we should all accompany Britney to buy gas and "hell yes, we'll still have plenty of time to go to the Black Cat." So, we all pile into Britney's car to search for a safe gas station at midnight in Beaumont. As you can guess, that took a while.
When we got back to Crockett Street, Fabio decides he's hungry again and pops into Tootsie's Diner for some shrimp on a stick. Naturally, we all got something to eat. So, here we are at 1:30 p.m. finally walking over to the Black Cat which closes at 2:00 a.m. That's okay. We still have thirty minutes to get some moves in.
The Black Cat is in view, just like the land of Oz. We are Dorothy, Tin Man, Lion and Scarecrow within reach of our evening's goal when we're stopped by the doorman. The doorman takes one look at Stallone's feet and says, "Y'all can't come in here. He's wearing sandals."
So, unlike Oz, where everyone got in because of Dorothy's shoes, we're denied because of Stallone's freakin' sandals. A horse of a different color indeed.
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