Tom on Mens Rooms in Bars

 

Part of an email I received from my brother: 
Subject:  "Wind Beneath My Wings"-Bette Midler. (1988)

Today's Subject line is something of a tearjerker and I'll readily admit that such numbers are the sorts of guilty pleasures that I'd never mention when in a barroom in the company of manly men; tossing back shots of chap rye and eating those rubbery hard boiled eggs that seem to only be sold in disreputable drinking establishments.  Another way to tell if you're drowning your sorrows in a dive bar is to check out the condom vending machine in the men's room.  The type of condom sold will tell a girl much.  If the machine dispenses recognizable brands of "skins'  such as Trojans, ('Safety First' '), or Tropical Flavored Durex, you're probably OK.  If the only available prophylactics are 'Sheiks', which bear the smiling visage of silent movie star Ruidolf Vaentinno on the wrapper, you'd be wise to have your Obstetrician on speed dial.  And under no circumstances should you bet the next 18 years of your life on 'Jig-Jig' 'safes', that have a picture i\of an improbably buxom Asian woman on the wrapper and instruction for use written in an unrecognizable language made up entirely of consonants.   These vending machines actually dispense other necessities for a Man on the Make. There's usually a selection of hair products for men that bring to mind those good old days of the 1950s. Little plastic bottles of Vitalis always seem to be available, and for some men miniature butch wax sticks were available for the man with a flattop that seems to say: "Don't Mess With Me".  But if Vitalis seems too oily and your hair's too long for a flattop, a good compromise is Brylcreem, ("A Little Dab'll Do Ya...She'll Love To Run Her Fingers Through Your Hair").  But if a man's to make himself presentable, he'll need a comb and our handy vending machine sells those, too.  A quality establishment will offer the classic "Ace". comb, which is a nifty rubberized number that will give you good service until you lose it.  More typical are cheap combs whose teeth break off the first time that you use it.

But after an evening of drinking, men often don't smell terribly fresh.  If they hope to get lucky, most men need to 'freshen up', and here again, our trusty vending machine rides to the rescue. There's nothing like a nice cologne to make a man smell desirable, and our vending machine is, once again, Johnny on the spot. Nothing gets a girl in the mood more than a noseful of 'Hai Karate', or ' English Leather'. And if you wonder why a lady of common sense and self respect would deign to leave with a guy who prepares for his ride on the 'Love Train',by spending 10 dollars in a pissy-smelling men's room vending machine, remember that she's viewing the world through wine goggles.

But back. to Bette Midler.  The first time that I ever heard of her was when I read an article in Rolling Stone magazine back when it was printed on a cheap newsprint.  The article was about the Continental Baths, which was a gay bathhouse in the basement of the old Ansonia Hotel.  Besides being a safe space for spectacularly sexually active gay men, (ever hear of 'Glory Holes'?  Ask me and I'll tell you), the baths were one of those quintessentially New York venues where quality live music could be heard on a regular basis.   Miss Midler was the Queen of the Continental Baths, but she was far from the only quality musical act.  Barry Manilow would occasionally act as her pianist, (check out the video of Mr. Manilow's 'Copacabana' on YouTube.It's hilariously campy). Melissa Manchester performed there, as did Nell Carter and Labelle. And The Manhattan Transfer were regulars.  The place wasn't open all that long, but it made its mark on the New York music scene.  And for some reason, every time I think of Bette Midler, I think of the Continental Baths.   The movie, "Beaches" was your standard Rom-Com, and I had a crush on Barbare Hersey after I saw the film.  But Bette Midler made that movie...