By Boots Rule
I walked into the club and wandered over to my usual spot at the bar. Told my favorite bartender Tony I wanted a beer and he acted like he didn’t know who I was. He poured from the tap and brought the glass and sat it before me on the wooden counter. That was when he finally got a startled look in his eyes and said “That you Rob?” I nodded my head while taking a sip. “Geez, I didn’t recognize you with that half hood on. You going to some costume party?” Funny question from a bartender in a leather bar. Beside the half hood, I was in my usual full leather police uniform with the cod piece on the breeches, my tall Dehner boots, Langlitz jacket and Muir cap. The half hood was the only change of my normal Friday night wear. “Trying something new, that’s all” was my reply. “Changes your whole look……kind of a mystery man. I’m sure you’re going to surprise a lot of people here tonight.” It was a busy Friday night so there were many who would see me wearing it.
Mystery man. Boy did that strike a bell with me. I’ve been coming to this bar for years, and lately have been feeling stiffled. Typecast if you will. I’ve been known around here as a Boot Top for so long that there are times I feel like a tourist attraction. Men approach me all the time with the same fucking question “Sir, May I Lick Your Boots Sir?” Good luck getting any sort of conversation out of them. And good luck chatting up the other Tops who frequent this place. They aren’t unfriendly but I am seen as the competition time and time again.