Right after I got out of the hospital following my motorcycle accident, I had tried to return to work. I had always worked in payroll, and to my utter dismay, I trans-versed numbers so badly, I was no longer able to work in that field. Somewhat depressed, I resigned from my job, and for the first time in my adult life, I seemed unable to motivate myself to learn a new skill. Chef tried to encourage me to go back to school, but I’ve always hated going to school, and the idea didn’t sit well with me at all. So, he did the next best thing. He bought me a bar.
I was totally psyched about the whole thing. I researched the area that the bar was in, and I came up with the name The White Crow Tavern. It was only a beer bar, so I set about to obtain a liquor license, which in Oklahoma is one heck of an enterprise. However, with all my attention focused on the goal, I was able to swing it, and for the first time in the 30 years of the little bar’s existence, liquor was served.
I got some of my biker sisters to help me form a pool team, and then we went around to all the other bars in our area and coaxed people to come to my bar. It was fun and successful. Before long, my little ghetto bar was hopping. We had shirts made up that read, “White Crow Tavern — North Enough To Be Naughty”, playing on the fact that the location was in north Tulsa, where crime was at a maximum. Funny, until it became evident that we weren’t immune to robbers and thieves.
This was also about the time period that Chef became interested in belonging to the motorcycle club that he is in now. It being a notorious club, I had some misgivings. However, because the members came to our bar and I got to know them, I was able to discuss my fears with some of them, and I quickly came to understand to not judge these people by what the media or other uninformed people had told me. And the fact that people seemed afraid of them was a plus for my bar. It made people a little more careful about what they would do or say in my bar. Plus, people liked to hang around where the bad bikers hung out, so it added a little more clientele to the place. It was a fun time for me.
One evening when I was closing up, I had two biker sisters in the bar with me, when a man came in. We were closed already, but I’d forgotten to lock the door. I informed the guy that we were closed, but he ignored me, and I knew instantly that I was going to be robbed. Up until this point, I’d had three break-ins, but I’d never been robbed while I was there.
Thinking back to all the stories I had heard about how the biker women can be more dangerous than their men, I was a little reassured that the two badass women that were sitting at my bar would help me handle this situation….right up until they ran into the bathroom and locked the door, leaving me standing alone behind the bar looking at the gang member with tear drops tattooed on his face.
I quickly inventoried my options, and there weren’t many. So, I did what any self-respecting, Christian woman should do. I flirted with him. I’ve never flirted so well in my life!
Taken by surprise, the gang member quickly flirted back. Now, it did occur to me that I could possibly have just set myself up to be raped, but at the moment, I was just buying some time, hoping that the two girls hiding in the bathroom were calling the cops. The guy asked for a beer, and I gave him one, saying that I couldn’t sell a beer after 2 am, but he could have one on the house. We swapped some small talk, and I think I became engaged some time during that conversation. All the while I kept washing the dishes, trying to look like I didn’t suspect a thing. After Gang Member finished his beer, he told me that he’ hoped he would see me around sometime, and then left.
That was the day that I threw out all my stereotypical knowledge of bikers and their women. We’re all just regular people, no matter what Gangland says.
I also learned the value of engaging a person on a personal level..it probably saved my life.