Paris has the Eiffel Tower. London has Big Ben. All great cities have an iconic landmark.
So too, Bakersfield.
BUCK OWENS' CRYSTAL PALACE
Buck Owens is revered here, even three years after his death. He hosted "Hee-Haw". He pioneered "The Bakersfield Sound" in country music. I have no idea what that is, but it probably involves big rig air horns and rhythmic oil pumping. He lived here for probably the last 40 years and built himself a shrine. The Crystal Palace. On Buck Owens Blvd.
I've heard about it for months. It's the center of civic life here. Quite the big deal. I couldn't believe it's taken this long to check it out.
"Crystal Palace". It sounded so grand. I pictured Versailles. But if I've learned anything in our three months here, I've learned you can never set your bar too low. So I quickly ratcheted down my expectations and pictured something along the lines of an Indian casino. It probably had some sort of glass atrium or entrance that gave it it's "Crystal" name.
So off we went. We turned in the driveway, off Buck Owens' Blvd, or BOB, as I like to call it. To the right was a cheesy "Western" town - fakes storefronts and "saloons", with threadbare mannequins hanging out on fake balconies. I looked beyond it for a glimpse of the "Palace".
Nothing.
And then it hit me... that was no cheesy Western town...
"Welcome to Buck Owens' Crystal Palace".
Crystal my ass. There wasn't a pane of glass anywhere. It was a super-sized honky tonk, done up like Calico Ghost Town at Knott's Berry Farm. This was the center of the Bakersfield universe?
Inside was more of the same, Frontierland turned inside out. A smallish stage and a huge mezzanine level. That must be where they stage the fake gunfights, gunslingers tumbling over the balcony railing. Oh right, we weren't at a theme park. The pièce de résistance was Buck's "Nudiemobile", a Pontiac convertible blinged out Elvis style, mounted sideways on the wall behind the bar, roadkill style.
This was going to be a short night out.
There was no live music the night we were there. Be grateful for small favors. We ordered some drinks and checked out the scene. My original assessment of it being a honky tonk was incorrect. It was a wildlife preserve. The species on display?
Cougars.
Now all the cosmetic surgery ads on the radio made sense.
The ladies, if I may use that term, have probably not been exposed to gay men, and never thought to make that assumption. To them we were just new. New meat. My partner took most of the attention - he's the pretty one. We ordered more drinks. And more. It wasn't helping.
The uncomfortable attention, the feeling of eyes drilling through you, hushed whispers and pointing was too much. And the car mounted on the wall became disorienting after a few drinks - you felt like you were standing on the walls. We decided to throw in the towel.
As we walked out someone shouted "Ya'll come back now!"
Hmmm....... No.
