An Open Letter to Caven

Dear Caven:

It is time to do something about the bridezillas.

S4 has long been a beacon of tolerance in the community.

We’ve got our ancient drag queens that look like Ann Richards in a fur prom dress.

We suffer through the occasional invasion of the plushies, who make the dance floor look like the music video for “The Bad Touch” by the Bloodhound Gang.

At times, we even have the occasional gay person coming in to see a dragshow.

There is, however, one consistent plague infesting the Rose Room: Bachelorette. parties.

They reserve the best seats in the house and their friends spill over into the general seating.  Their costumes are distracting, obnoxious, and at times, their hair and accessories are visually obstructive.

Frankly, the gay population is tired of being condemned to the back of the bar so hoards of women we will only ever see once (thank gawd) can celebrate a social rite of passage that nary a one of your gay customers can truly benefit from.

Last night was the breaking point for me.  The carpeted area of the Rose Room was equivalent to that area at Chuck E. Cheese that is reserved for children whose parents shelled out $300 for cheap pizza served by a pedophile in a rat costume.

Chuck E. Cheese snorting a line of coke

They were everywhere.  The one in front of me was probably 5’2” but she had on 4” heels.  Her hair, which may or may not have been smuggling illegal aliens, was at least four inches above her head, topped with a tiara that, had it been any taller, could have been declared a skyscraper.

I’d say let’s toss them into the river, but the Trinity is such a cumbersome trip.  So, with compromise and tolerance in mind, I have come up with a better solution.

If they want reserved seating, let them have the back of the Rose Room.  There’s seating, and TV monitors that they can watch the show on.

This removes them as a distraction to the show, keeps us from looking like we are discriminating against them, and puts your primary customers back in viewing range of Cassie Nova’s terrible (yet endearing) lip synching.

Cheers,

The Gays

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