Larry Flynt's Hustler Bar & Grill

When my brother called to invite me to a party that the San Diego Food and Beverage Association was having, I was on the fence. When he told me it was at the Hustler Bar and Grill downtown, it piqued my interest a bit, although I'm one of the few people who's never even gone to a Hooters. But I found out the party was on the same night as an event around the corner at the Bitter End that I was going to crash.

The Hustler Bar and Grill had a surprisingly classy look inside. A few statues, brick walls, and lots of their magazine covers blown up on the wall. And the food the chef brought around was excellent. He'd tell you a little about the item before you grabbed it. There was shrimp, steak shish kebabs, and smoked salmon. As he was walking back to the kitchen with an empty tray, I heard him say, 'They're like vultures. They're like carnivores eating everything in sight."

A table was set up with cheeses, egg rolls, and other appetizers. Tickets were passed out that said the beer and wine were hosted, but spirits were sold separately. As a child, I hated the toys that had "batteries sold separately" on the tag, with no batteries on Christmas morning; as an adult, it's the spirits sold separately that get me.

The conversations varied among the people in this trade association. I heard two guys talking about some bills that were being passed in Sacramento and San Francisco that could possibly affect bars and restaurants in San Diego. I heard another guy ask, "Does that waitress have fake tits?" I couldn't tell, but the waitresses were all attractive.

"I do know one real popular American tune you'll know"

There was a little skin for the ladies. A good-looking man came in with a guitar and a poncho but no pants. He was singing loudly, and my brother wondered for a second if he was a homeless guy who had wandered in from downtown.

The guy sang songs by Elvis, Simon and Garfunkel, and the Beatles. When he walked by, I jokingly yelled out, "Free Bird!" With a British accent, he said, "Oh, I don't know that song. Who sings it?" I told him Lynyrd Skynyrd, and when he still seemed confused, I explained a little about fans yelling out songs at concerts and lighting a match or lighter. He said, "I do know one real popular American tune you'll know."

He went into "American Pie," and I said to my brother, "Great, he's going to be here for the next 15 minutes singing." The guy laughed and said, "I do an abbreviated version; it's only a few minutes long."

When he left the table, somebody said to me, "When there's a person singing at your table, what is the proper etiquette? At the Mexican restaurants in Old Town, I can't hear the people I'm with if a mariachi band is playing. And is it rude to talk while people are singing to you? Is it rude to stare right at them when they are only a few feet from you? And are you supposed to tip?" His questions were starting to sound like a Seinfeld episode. I quickly moved on.

I ran into one of the owners of this place. He started peppering me with questions about why the Reader won't take advertising from his bar and grill. He said, "Our magazine fought for the freedoms that allow magazines like the Reader to write what they write and for freedom of speech."

I thought Larry Flynt was fighting more for his rights to sell pornography and for some reason became a poster boy for free speech. Larry is one of the owners of this place, and his brother Jimmy runs it.

I was asked if I wanted to meet Jimmy Flynt, and I asked, "Is that Larry's brother?" The man introducing us said, "Did you see the movie The People vs. Larry Flynt? If you did, you'd know who he was."

I spoke briefly with Jimmy, and the conversation was going well, even when the GM said, "This guy is from the Reader. The magazine that and won't let us advertise." Jimmy smiled and talked a little about how their advertisement would be classy and only promote the bar and grill — without mentioning their men's magazine. Since I don't work in the Reader advertising department, I just kept saying, "Sure, that would be great. I'll see what I can do."

There was an attractive woman in her 40s standing near me the entire time smiling. As I was leaving, I heard her say, "It's such an honor to meet you." I turned only to see she was talking to Mr. Flynt, not me. Oh well, my ego will survive.

Andrew and assistant: "You have nine minutes to talk to each person"

I walked around the corner to the Bitter End for the next event. It was called San Diego Fast Dating. The guy who runs this, Andrew, was telling me a little about it. "You have nine minutes to talk to each person. Then we ring a bell and you move to the next person. You meet a lot of people, and where else can you go into a bar and come away with that many phone numbers, or know whether they are single? You may end up in other places, buying drinks for women all night and not getting a phone number."

Ah, but it's not that easy. Some guys have gone to this event and didn't get any phone numbers. Andrew explained, "You get a sheet of paper. Any person you want to see further, you mark 'yes.' If they mark 'yes' on their sheet, then we give you their phone number. If they don't choose you, then you don't get their number. I've had some people that nobody chooses. And we don't encourage them to come back. If we have ugly people here, it hurts things."

I asked, "Isn't that rude, that just because somebody isn't chosen at an event, that you aren't interested in them coming to the event again?"

"It's survival of the fittest," Andrew told me. "We once placed an ad that we didn't want any fat women, because men don't generally find them attractive. That time, we had more men sign up than ever before. And that's another thing. We need the exact same ratio of men to women. We've had too many women before, and if a few are sitting there with nobody to talk to, they don't like it."

I was taking notes as people walked in. I heard Andrew say, upon one handsome man's entrance, "This guy gets all the numbers. The women love him." He seemed awkward as Andrew said this, and I wondered why — if he's met so many women in the past — why wasn't he with one now?

Another woman walked in asking how long the process takes. When Andrew told her two hours, she did not seem thrilled.

I heard others walk in saying, "I'm only doing this because I'm here with a friend." And when I decided to do the rotation and talk to the different women, I heard the line, "I've never done anything like this before" at least four times.

The first woman I talked to was an attractive African-American. She was singing along to a Michael Jackson song that was playing on the sound system. I asked what she thought about his legal troubles, and she got upset. She said, "I don't know you well enough to talk about that. I'll discuss the verdict after the jury does." I tried to say something else about it, being as nonconfrontational as possible. But she still seemed bothered and asked why I was continuing on. We ended up having a few laughs, but I was saved by the bell. Andrew walked around ringing it, and I gladly moved to the next table.

My next date was an attractive blonde, and when I sat down, I joked about these sheets we carry around. You write down the person's name and whether or not you like them. I say, "Isn't that weird, if somebody is saying something boring, and you circle 'no' right in front of them?" She said, "It's like going in for a job interview, huh?" I asked her what movies she liked, and we talked a lot about novels and films. I found she had good taste in the arts. That time, it seemed as if Andrew rang the bell too soon. I asked him later, "Is nine minutes enough time to really get to know somebody or impress someone?" He said, "It's enough time to decide if you like them well enough to go on a real date."

Another lady told me she talked to a guy who told her at least five times that he was a doctor. I said, "Hey, if I spent ten years in medical school. I'd want to make sure the woman knows I make a decent living." She said, "Yeah, but five times? I got the point after the first time he mentioned it. And why does everyone ask the same questions? They ask where you work. Or, with my accent, they ask where I'm from. I hate that." I smiled and said, "Okay, I won't ask where you're from. Ah, I'm a Libra, what sign are you?" We both laughed, and I noticed her name tag had fallen off. As I picked it up for her, I said, "Hey, they should have you write all those things on your name tag. What your sign is, how much money you make, and your age." She liked all but the age part.

I talked to a nice lady who lives in Orange County. I told her, "Nobody is going to pick you if they, have to drive that far to pick you up for a date."

She agreed but was in town and wanted to see.

Another lady, a pretty Filipina, seemed kind of quiet. When I said something I thought was funny, she didn't laugh. I didn't mind that so much, but I expected at least a polite smile at my attempt at humor.

Another lady told me about the different guys she's met. She said one seemed way too creepy. Another she thought was good looking and nice, but when he stood up, she saw he was very short. The funniest thing was when she said, "There was one guy that showed up and he only had one eye! He said he forgot to bring his glass eye. It was weird."

During the break they had after the seventh "speed date," people were walking around talking or ordering drinks at the bar. I thought the people were generally good looking, although I saw some of the men looking at each other.

I wondered if they were scoping out the competition. And when I saw the woman with the accent at the bar, I offered to buy her a drink. She said, "You're not supposed to pick me up here at the bar." I asked why an attractive woman like her needed to go to an event like this. She told me, "I don't meet a lot of men where I work, and I'm really picky with the men I meet." I found out later she picked four different people at this event. She had at least eight guys pick her. Andrew told me, "The people that are picked by everyone, we like them to come back. We make it cheaper for them." I said, "For the people that nobody picks, why not have an event for them? It could be all the people that nobody else picked." He said, "Are you crazy? That would be a disaster. Even the ugly people at these events — if you look at their sheet, they don't pick the unattractive people. They pick the good-looking ones, just like everybody else."