Stupid me, I made the mistake of telling my friend Gretchen that I wasn't doing anything Sunday and got roped into helping out with her kid's birthday party. Let me tell you, 3 hours of screeching 4 year olds spazzed out on sugar and having to go pee pee and using your new sweater as a hanky will give any female of child bearing age lockjaw at the knees. Finally the parents showed up to whisk their little booger eaters away. I silently sang Hallelujiah, visions of vodka and No Minors Permitted signs dancing in my head, and informed Gretchen she was taking me to the bar, pronto.

  So after being run out of Sewickly's by a weird customer who wanted to psychoanalyze us, we ended up at Bar of the Gods, where the surrounding people were mercifully grown and normal. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled into my Stoli. Then Gretchen had to start. "What CD is this? Play mine instead." she said, fishing a burned CD out of her giant Mom purse. "Gretchen.." I said, but the nice bartender was already putting her CD in. Here we go. Some obscure band she thinks she's so cool for knowing blared through the speakers. "Can you skip the first two songs and play #3, 4, and 6?" Oh no. I had brought an MPD into one of my favorite bars.

 Every bar has at least one Music Prima Donna (MPD's). You know who they are. They are the people who are repulsed by any music they did not select. And they see to it that everyone is aware of their disgust, loudly and ceaselessly. Their preference in music is the only one worth having. Anyone who likes music that they don't is scorned.  Punkers and Cowboys are the worst, because they fear being seen enjoying different kinds of music will label them posers, something I haven't worried about since 10th grade. However, MPD's come in all forms. And they drive the bar staff crazy because what sounds great to one MPD is infecting another MPD with uncoolness. Their subsequent bitching ruins the vibe for the rest of the customers who just want to enjoy themselves. If you are in a jukebox-free bar that plays the radio or CD's, the bellyaching never ceases. Some bartenders will placate them but, suprise, I'm not one of them. Don't bother going to the car for some "real" music. I know better than to play customer's CD's for them. All it takes is for someone else to say the music's lame, and you have a conflict on your hands. I've seen grown men come to blows over this. Fuck if that's going to happen on my watch.

  I really feel for DJ's. If anyone knows it's impossible to please everybody, it's them. Whatever they play, even if everyone else is loving it and the dance floor is packed, there's always an MPD harassing them to change it. Then when the DJ refuses, they rant that the DJ sucks. Once the DJ does change the music, someone else is ready to nag them about it. This is why DJ's give you that icy glare when you approach them.

  When I go out drinking, I don't make an ass out of myself over what music the bar plays. Not everybody shares my musical tastes, and I don't expect them to. I have a stereo at home where I can play whatever I want. Remember, the bar is a business, and you aren't the only person there. If you are and MPD and you won't stay home, carry an Ipod so you have a lifeline to your precious tunes. Better still, since your music comprehension is so much more advanced than everyone else's, start DJing yourself. And deal with MPD's of your very own.