SIS: Secrets and Mechanical Bulls

PS. I will get better pics and post later!  This was captured by cell, it  is my baby riding the bull at the dive...

     I've been trying to think of a perfect time to come out of the closet. You see, I have a secret. A secret that I have been mulling over for the past five months. A secret that sort of changes everything and nothing all at the same time. Tantalized yet?

     Well, you’re going to have to wait a bit for the big reveal. First I have to preface. It’s hard to write a column about being single in Sandpoint when: 1. You’re no longer single, and 2. You have an unspeakable secret. So today I'm going to just get it over with. At some point. Anyway, I have a story.

     It all starts with the fact that Sandpoint has a new bar. And for those of you non-Sandpoint residents who read my column, I know you probably don't understand the significance of such an event; but to many people around here, a new bar is like being touched by naked baby angels.

     When I say “a new bar” what I mean is “a real bar.” A bar that serves liquor and has a dance floor. A bar where celebrating and listening to loud music is applauded rather than condemned. A bar where a person under the age of 40 can feel like they belong.  

     Sandpoint really lacks in this area. The nightlife here is practically non-existent for people in their 20s and 30s, and let me tell you these people COMPLAIN about it. ALL THE TIME. So it’s really nothing less than awesome that a local entrepreneur took it upon himself to make a bar where there is something for these people, their kids and their parents.

     In case you hadn’t put it together yet, I'm talking about Sandpoint's newest watering hole: The Dive. And The Dive is hard to explain, but I’ll do my best.

     Imagine, if you will, gutting an old brick building, then turning the inside into something sort of like the Thunder Dome – a large indoor space with a balcony around the top.

     Next, add a mechanical bull, several different kids of arcade games, free peanuts, greasy food, waitresses in tight shirts and the sounds of hair band music playing in the background.

     The front of the building has a deck overlooking the street (think Mardi Gras), and the lower outdoor seating is right next to two giant garage doors that open into the main floor.

     The theme is sort of "white trash fun" meets super cool night club. The decor is unfinished raw wood and brick with bright orange accents. There’s a lot going on there.

     I stepped into The Dive for the first time on the Friday night of Lost in The ’50s. I loved the fact that the games were free and the food was cheap; many people had their children there and the kids were loving the mechanical bull rides and free games. But kids are allowed only until 9 p.m. After that, The Dive is an adults only establishment.

     I heard a lot of people complimenting the decor and general set up of the building, and loving the tongue-in-cheek trailer park concept.

     Sure there are critics out there who think The Dive is a terrible idea. Blah, blah, blah. The truth is that Sandpoint NEEDED something like this. Something that breathed life into the downtown area. Somewhere you can go to watch a game, get tipsy, ride a bull or pick up a member of the opposite sex. The economy sucks, things are depressing and adults need to let off some steam. Tourists need to have a place to go party and spend their money and – let’s face it – some of our local taverns aren't so friendly to newcomers.

     In case you didn’t pick up on it, I was really excited to see this new bar. But my excitement soon turned to jealousy, a bit of sadness and maybe a twinge of anticipation. You see, there’s still the matter of this secret that I have, and the secret was preventing me from jumping on that bull and riding it into the pages of history.

     In short: I couldn't ride the bull at The Dive and I couldn't sample the vodka. I had to sit at a table eating nachos and observing. Why? What is the secret? 

     I'm creating life. That's right, bitches, I'm not fat I'm pregnant. 

     And before you ask: Yes, it was on purpose. Yes, I might be crazy and no, I won't be sitting at home for the next four months knitting booties. 

     This isn't my first rodeo, you know. That’s why I waited five months to let the cat out of the bag; there was no need to make ya'll suffer through nine months of me complaining about living the life of a stone-sober whale. 

     So there you go. I have now done it all: I've been a kid in Sandpoint, a teenager in Sandpoint, single in Sandpoint, married in Sandpoint and now knocked up in Sandpoint. In fact, I might be sort of an expert on living in Sandpoint, and I’m available for consultation.

     Thanks for sticking with my column for the last 4.5 years; I have a feeling the adventure is just starting.

Going to buy some kick-ass cowboy boots to wear on that bull after my vajayjay heals,

Scarlette Quille