Isn’t Always Fair
summer, the motorcycle club I used to be associated with has a big hog roast
with music, camaraderie, bike games, a poker run, a bike burn, a burn out pit,
fireworks, vendors selling leather goods, breakfast, tattoos, and of course,
lots of drinking. Bikers come from all around to party. Even the locals come
for the weekend. The profits from this lucrative event is always given to a
it first began it was smaller than it is now. For activities, we had a dunk
tank, a DJ for during the day, with a popular local band for the evening’s
entertainment. The hogs would be roasting and people could check out the
POW/MIA Tent from Kansas while they waited for their turn with the tattooist.
year, after checking to make sure all the side dishes were there, I walked out,
stopping to visit with various people as I went along. At the time, the club
did not have a “clubhouse” yet so the party was being held on farmland that was
owned by the parents of the President of the club. A huge US Flag and a POW/MIA
Flag hung between 2 silos. Picnic tables borrowed from the local park were
placed all over.
the early days, it was a challenge to keep people entertained all day. he poker run had not been incorporated into the event
so the guys were looking for
ways to make sure everyone stayed and had an enjoyable time during the
afternoon before the meal was ready. This year, they decided to have a wet
t-shirt contest. With the winner receiving a prize of $100. This offended
everything in me that had ever fought for women’s rights. Believe me I had
words with them on this. As in every democracy, I was voted down. It didn’t
help that I was the only female voice.
to be outdone, I demanded equality! If they were going to have a wet t-shirt
contest, I asked for a “best buns” contest be held for the ladies. Where men
got up on the so-called stage and paraded and the women in the group could vote
on who had the best butt. I was told, if I could raise the money and get men up
on the stage, I could have my contest. They were so sure it would never happen.
With a wicked gleam in my eye I said to them, “Watch me.”
they were approaching different women to be in the contest, which I had suggested
it should be open to anyone, and again was voted down, I was quietly going
around to every single person there, upwards of 500, with my hat in hand asking
for a donation for my contest. I didn’t just ask the women for donations
either. I asked the men! Equals, right? I found to my surprise, that the men,
not only laughed and thought it was a great idea, they were generous in their
I was done, I counted the money in my hat. Not everyone gave, but those who did
made my collection well over $200! Triumphantly, I went to the President and
showed it to him. He said I could have my contest but I should be ready to give
it all back because no man would get up there. He only said this because they
had only 3 women on the stage and so far, none had taken their top off. Which
was the whole point to a wet t-shirt contest. He was a bit peeved that I had
raised so much money to boot.
30 minutes of 3 women prancing around to music and catcalls in wet t-shirts and
shorts, the crowd had voted on their favorite. She was given the $100 prize
money and then the Sergeant at Arms, who supported my contest, enthusiastically
announced the contest for the men. He told how much money had been collected
and that it was “winner take all”. It was open to any who was interested in participating.
a guy here and there approached the stage. Then one whose wife pushed him up, another
whose girlfriend shoved him up, and before I knew it, there were ten guys
standing on that stage! One of whom, was my future brother-in-law! My sister
and I dying with laughter because he went with no encouragement.
music started and at first, they just kind of turned around and walked, but as
the women yelled, they took their shirts off. They flexed their muscles, in
some cases nonexistent muscles. The more the women yelled, the more they got
into it. They demanded to be sprayed with the water so their jeans would stick
to their derrieres. The women went wild and they shook their tushies for all
they were worth.
ego, took over and it became a real competition. One took his jeans off and was
parading in his underwear! Women rushed the stage and threw dollars at him! A
couple more, not to be outdone, took their jeans off and started dancing in
their underwear! They too were rewarded with dollar bills. One left the stage
shaking his head, he wouldn’t go that far. But soon all but 2 were dancing in
their undies. One of whom was my sister’s fiancée. She turned to me and she
said, “Bob better not take his pants off, he’s not wearing any underwear!” I
women yelled at Bob and the other guy who had not taken his pants off, “take it
off!” They yelled back they couldn’t because they were “going commando”! The
women didn’t care. They screamed even louder, “TAKE IT OFF!” The next thing I knew,
Bob, my future brother-in-law, took his pants off! My sister screamed and I,
had to look away. I was NOT going to watch him!
to be outdone, the other guy, took his off as well so there were two dancing
naked on stage. One woman was videotaping it! Others were taking photos! Six of
the guys refused to go that far, took their dollars and got off stage, but one
more ripped his tightie whities off and there were the three of them dancing
and prancing away to the delight of the entire crowd. Except for the President
of the club who was glowering. I was looking any were but the stage, my face
beet red! I had not planned on this!
Sergeant of Arms finally got the crowd to settle down. It was time to vote.
Applause was going to determine the winner. He stood by each of the
contestants. While each of the first two got a fair amount of cheers, it was
undeniable that my future brother-in-law received the most thunderous of
applause. From what I was told, it was partly because he was brave enough to go
first, but mostly because he put the other two to shame being more, shall we
couldn’t tell you, once the nudity started, I turned my back! Which I never
lived down. Had Bob not been up there, I’d have watched and jeered with the
rest, but I really did NOT want to have that vision etched in my mind. It would
be my luck that on their wedding day, as they’d be standing at the altar, I’d
burst out laughing because it would suddenly come to mind. Not appropriate
behavior for the Matron of Honor! And trust me, I would have done it.
was laughing, filled with bon homie and ready to eat. When my dad arrived later
and heard what happened, he announced that had he been there, he would have
gotten up on stage and put them all to shame! My sister and I looked at each
other in horror, we knew that given the right circumstances, in other words, a
couple of beers, he’d do it! We laughed until we cried at the thought of our
father doing such a thing! Agreeing thankfully, we really lucked out that he
the end of the night the President was talking to a few of the other guys in
the club. “It’s not fair that she just picks up and throws that together like
that making fools of us!” The President complained.
Sergeant of Arms looked him in the eye and said, “Yeah, well, get over it.
Equal ain’t always fair bro.”