I have a limited social life, much like many of you. It’s not as active as I would prefer it to be as Mrs. Kennedy only lets me off the leash once or twice a month. While my lack of activity may seem worthy of some pity it plays as an important segue into today's column about the club called Dust.
Dust is a good club, decent atmosphere, the drinks aren’t overly expensive or too watered down. It’s fairly active and has a good rotation of talented DJs. I have spent quite a few evenings hanging out, having a few drinks, and listening to the music.
And then the other night as I was sitting at the bar this happens, “Hey (bartender’s name here). Go dark.” I look over and who do I see but our own former Chief of Police Richard Thorne. He obviously didn’t notice me as I don’t have a black eye right now, but that is neither here nor there.
The phrase “Go dark.” sounds ominous in the first place, and what came next didn’t make it any more reassuring. The bartender, waitresses, and bouncers start escorting the majority of people out of the club. I say the majority because about 10% of the people in there that night, 10 or 15 people I didn’t get a good head count, were ignored by the staff and acted like nothing exciting was happening. That it was business as usual.
Drinks were reimbursed or in one case allowed to walk out the door, orders were cancelled, and we were rounded up and out we went. Once we were outside the exterior lights were turned out, the music went off, and the bar closed. 5 hours early. On a Friday.
No one standing there in the parking lot knew what had just happened, but one of the ladies I talked to had told me that this wasn’t an unheard of event as she had been here two other times when the club inexplicably closed with no warning or explanation. I waited in my car for about 3 hours that night, because I am the curious sort, and no one who was in the club left by either of the two doors I could see and no one entered the club either.
The next Monday I went back to the club and asked to speak to the manager, I felt very Chad-like. (Mr./Mz. name here) came out and greeted me by name, which took me a little off guard. We had a brief conversation with the usual pleasantries and then I asked what, “Go dark.” meant.
(He/She/They) went noticeably paler and claimed not to know what I was talking about. I brought up the sudden closure of the club on the previous Friday night and the use of the phrase. I was met with the old stone face and a very brisk we don’t talk about company policies with non-employees.
When I asked why only some of the club patrons were allowed to stay, (he/she/they) pointed to the “we reserve the right to refuse service” sign behind the bar. I was then told that a member of the patronage bought out the bar for the remainder of the night and asked that their party be the only ones allowed in the club. As they paid the tab, they got the club. When I asked if that person was Richard Thorne, I was again greeted with the we don’t talk about company business line.
It all stank of stale beer and bull. But that was as far as my interview was allowed to go, (he/she/they) were called away for a “phone call” and shortly thereafter I was told by one of the bouncers that the manager would be detained for some time and that they considered our discussion concluded. When a man the size of a load bearing wall tells you the interview is over, the interview is over.
So that leaves me with several questions. What is really going on at Dust? How is our former police chief connected to Dust? What does, “Go dark.” really mean? Why were some of the patrons, seemingly at random, allowed to stay while the majority were told to leave?
I don’t have the answers to these questions yet. But I will.
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