In an attempt to break the rather somber mood surrounding the announcement than my paternal grandfather–suffering from last-stage Alzheimers–has just been put into hospice care, my brother-in-law revealed that in order to get into the Chukker to see Dick Dale before he was actually 21 he went dressed in drag…because apparently they didn't card drag queens.
I have to admit that I have nothing to say to that, other than to note that the ceiling mural looks nothing like I remember. But I didn't go to the Chukker that often because it was across town and, well, you know, drinking and driving is pretty dumb.