The Charles was a pub in Hornswood which is gone now but thirty years ago was really dodgy. It was rough, known as a hangout for bikies, dealers and tough dudes and back in ’88 for some reason I’d ended up there with a mate. We had been drinking… heaps.

Anyway, nature called. I needed to shake hands with the man so I made my way through the intimidating Charles crowd.

There was a woman in the gents, by herself looking in the mirror. She turned and gave me the old stink-eye. She was not happy to see me at all. Nor was I happy to see her. That place is the last true bastion of manhood.

Angry woman in the men’s – “Wrong fucking place idiot, this is the ladies!”

Her aggressive tone instantly got my back up.

Me – “Actually I think you’re in the wrong… place (I left a deliberate pause where she had used fucking, to take the moral high ground). This is the men’s.”

Angry woman in the men’s – “Why would I be in the men’s?”

My brain was cloudy, but came up with the perfect retort.

Me – “Well… why would I be in the ladies?” It felt good. I now had the moral high ground and the psychological advantage.

Angry woman in the men’s – “Because you’re a drunk fucking idiot!

Me – “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m not drunk.”

I was drunk.

I did take a sneaky look around and couldn’t see any urinal, but it could have been around the corner. And the place did smell quite nice. However, I was standing my ground.

Me – “The only way we can settle this is to wait for the next person to enter.”

She sighed deeply.

Me – “If I’m wrong, I’ll admit you’re right and that I’m a drunk fucking idiot. If you’re wrong, you admit that just being angry doesn’t make you right.”

With such high stakes, I was getting a little nervous. We stood silently for a few moments, just two people who didn’t really want to be in each other’s company. I put off shaking hands with the man until the situation was clarified.

Finally the door opened and a large Maori looking BLOKE, walked in.

Me – “YEAH! I KNEW IT.”

I threw up my hand to high-five the big man. He ignored me.

Me – “Don’t leave me hangin’ .” I waved my high-five-awaiting hand around a bit.

Maori looking bloke – “ASSHOLE, you’re in the ladies. Out!”

Damn. I felt like a fool. I obediently started to follow the bouncer. She gave me the stink eye again. This time it really burned.

Me – “I was wrong.”

I started towards the door, which the bouncer held open.

Angry woman in the ladies – “Annnd?”

Me – “And I’m a drunk fucking idiot.”

Angry woman in the ladies – “Thank you.” She turned to the mirror and continued to put on lipstick.

Maori looking bloke – “Drunk hey? Time to leave then.”

Anyway, it took some time, but I eventually talked my way out of being evicted. And an hour or so later… it was time to shake hands with the man again.

I went into the gents this time, and just for a second I thought the two blokes at the sinks were women because the previous run-in still burned fresh in my mind and they both were tending to their long hair. One was flicking his hair and one looked to be tying his back in a pony-tail.

I was so relieved that I hadn’t made the same mistake again.

Me – “Jeez boys, I thought I was in the ladies!” I wish I had thought before I spoke, a common failing for me.

The two men turned. They were massive, scary, bikies! Big men. Lots of neck tattoos, muscles, bikie colours, thick moustaches, the works. They looked ready to bollard me to death.

I knew if I didn’t turn the mood immediately, I was gone. I took a punt.

Me – “THEN I THOUGHT SHIT, THERE’S TWO REALLY UNATTRACTIVE LADIES IN HERE.”

They were huge! I’m not small but these boys both dwarfed me. They didn’t laugh. I had to take one last crack at making them see the funny side. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion.

Me – “Two really unattractive ladies… one of which is carrying a bit of extra weight.” I pointed at the biggest bloke’s gut.

They burst into laughter. It was sweet music to my ears.

One bikie (through laughter) – “Fuck me Felon, I can’t believe he called you a lady. THAT’S A FIRST!” He was struggling to get the words out.

Felon – “And you a fat fucking lady!” They laughed hard.

I urinated (all the while thinking FUCK he’s called Felon) and left, while they still laughed loudly inside.

As the door shut behind me, another bikie approached. Not as big, but equally as scary.

New, equally as scary bikie – “What’s fuckin’ goin’ on in there?”

Me – “Felon’s just having a bit of a laugh.”

New, equally as scary bikie – “Felon’s laughing? Well fuck me.”

I made my way back to my table and my very much out-of-place friend. I sat down quietly. Ten minutes later Felon sent over a whiskey shot.

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