An evening in the Elk Lodge

Last Thursday evening started normally enough - Brandon and I went to pick up my car (which is now very trusty) from Alvis Auto Repair. We returned to our house to drop off one of the cars, went inside for a brief moment, and then left to have dinner before he was to go to the Farm. Upon arriving at the restaurant, however, we realized we did not have a house key - (they were both dangling from the other set of car keys on a shiny metal hook in our living room). Drat! We decided to go ahead and eat before tackling the task of getting into our house - (what could be worse than trying to break into your own house when it's 28 degrees outside? breaking into your own house when it's 28 degrees and you are very very hungry).

So after we finished our mediocre Mexican meal, we returned home. Both doors locked; all windows locked; no ladder in sight to reach the second story. As we sat in the car with the heat on, we decided to call the landlords, Larry and Maggie, in hopes of getting a spare key. Just our luck, they were in town already, so they stopped by. Sadly, none of their keys fit the lock. They told us to follow them to their home in Albany to get a spare set.

We followed them out West Union Street, but abruptly turned down a dark driveway. After we parked next to them, Brandon got out to talk with them while I waited in frustration in the car. As I looked out through the windshield, I noticed a flickering neon sign on the back of a cinder block building nearby, "Elks Lodge No. 973." Did they bring us here to use us as a sacrifrice in some sort of initiation ceremony? No. Rather, Larry wanted us to "go inside with Maggie and have a few drinks, while I 'hot-rod' it back to the house for the keys. After all, we never got you anything for a wedding gift!" Horribly uncomfortable and reluctant to go inside, I trailed behind Maggie and Brandon through the parking lot, while they made small talk. (I am awful at such things). I had never been inside one of these mysterious clubs before - I know there are Elks, Lions, Masons, and maybe Eagles? clubs, but I never knew what went on inside. Secret handshakes? Shuffleboard? Blood sacrifices?

After we entered through the outermost door, we came to a second door with a buzzer. A man wielding a pool stick came near, peered at us suspectly, and then gleefully opened it after recognizing his pal Maggie. We realized very quickly that Maggie was quite popular among the Elks; men rushed to put down their beer cans and greet us with handshakes. We were soon known as "Maggie's renters" around the bar, and the Elks offered their tongue-in-cheek condolences for our sad situation of " having to put up with such horrible landlords." This was funny to them, because Maggie and Larry are some of the kindest people in Athens, Ohio. Exhibit A demonstrating their kindness: even after we mailed our rent to them late this month and called them during their night out to the Club to help us get into our house, Maggie bought beer after beer for Brandon, insisting that we were her guests. Feeling like a terrible imposition, I agreed to a single Pepsi from the bar, but I was soon showered with a strange sort of tear-off lottery ticket to compensate for my lack of interest in getting drunk. After tearing through pile after pile of tickets that Larry purchased for me after returning from getting the keys, I sadly did not win a dime. Larry assured me, however, that all the proceeds from these tickets were going to a very worthy cause, as the Elks have a very generous philanthropic committee.

Rather than being dark, dingy, and smelling like stale beer and cigarettes as I had imagined, the Elks Lodge was quite cozy inside. It was cheerfully decorated for the season, with Christmas trees in the corners and wreaths hanging from the bar. The Elks were mostly men in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, although the bartender was a lively gal about my own age, serving up the cheap drinks (only $1.50 each) and sharing jokes with her patrons. Most everyone sat at the bar stools, while I was too intimated and opted for us to sit at a nearby table.

The atmosphere was very light, with constant laughter belting out from the bar. One particular wave of laughter caught our attention and distracted us from our conversation with M&L, which had now been going on for at least two hours. We noticed there was something moving on the top of the bar, and everyone was gathered around watching it move. Maggie, being the popular and sassy lady she is, yelled out, "Bring that thing over here - I want my renters to see what it's all about!" Soon, her friend, an older, round, white-haired man, who bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus himself, brought an animatronic Santa Claus over to us and plopped it down in the middle of our table. The Santa wore hawaiian print shorts and shirt, with the shirt unbuttoned all the way, as well as flip flops. He sang us a song and danced around a bit and then bent over, pulled down his shorts to moon us, and let out a very long, squeaky fart. Again, the Lodge roared with laughter.

By the end of the evening Maggie and Larry had invited us: 1.) to their house to go swimming and ride around on their various ATVs, including something called a "Gator" 2.) to the Muskingum river, where they spend most of their warm-weather weekends camping 3.) to return to the Elks Lodge with them for cheap drinks on Wednesday nights, although we could only return two more times before we would have to apply to become members ourselves. After all, they said, "Once and twice a guest, three times a pest" at the Lodge.

We actually became quite popular among the Elks, although most of them were of our parents' or grandparents' age. They respected us as M&L's friends, and most of them were familiar with and fond of people from Pataskala. Before we left, one of the men thrust a membership application in front of Brandon. For only $75, we too could become part of this special fellowship. Well, not "we"; women are not allowed as members, Maggie told us. (This explained why Maggie had to ring the buzzer to enter, whereas Larry returned easily by swiping his members-only card at the door.) I was reassured, though, that I could come back with Brandon whenever I wished.

We bid farewell to our new friends, thanking Maggie and Larry for their hospitality, as we rushed out into the blustery cold with spare keys in our pockets. Brandon handed me the keys for the short drive home, as he tried to sober up for the rest of his evening scrubbing grills.