Real Men Hang Here
The title of this show was the unofficial motto of a bar I worked at back in Wisconsin, called The Great Escape. It wasn’t fancy; there was a dance floor for karaoke night, sand pits out back for summer volleyball leagues, a couple pool tables and dart boards, and your standard NASCAR posters. The patrons were a strange blend of college kids, Hmong ginseng farmers, and local Swiss Miss Pudding factory laborers. I enjoyed working there; the tips were better than one would expect, and I was allowed to sneak a cocktail for myself every now and then. On the far end of the bar, attached to one of the many smoke-eaters, some unknown patron had hung a noose and attached a handmade sign which read “REAL MEN HANG HERE”. It’s to this sign I would point when burly construction workers didn’t want to finish the last of their shot of Wild Turkey.
