Chicaro Club is a restaurant in Enid, Oklahoma owned by a man named Gary.
And Gary isn’t the most inviting host.
“I’ve been in the business 44 years. I think I can spot a freak or a faggot. I really don’t want gays around.”
The video has been circulating around the internet for a couple of days now, but if you haven’t seen it, here it is in all its glory.
He refuses to serve blacks, hispanics, and people with disabilities.
Some internet citizens have taken it upon themselves to bombard his Yelp restaurant page and some of them are artistically trolltastic.
Listen… I am all for a little flirtation to up the tip, but Gary takes it too far.
When I approached the bar – after being told it was going to be an hour wait for the table – I asked what was good. Gary himself asked if I ever had a Redneck Cocksucker. Being from St. Louis, I figured this was some new fangled Oklahoma drink, so I answered with a no.
That’s when it got weird… Gary jumped over the bar using a move that can only be described as a “fabulously acrobatic vault”. He lands on his knees and unzips my pants with his teeth (side note, Gary doesn’t use Fixodent because his partial came out) and then looks up at me and says, “you’re about to have a redneck cocksucker now.”
I quickly freed his denture from my zipper tab and got the hell out of there. We were about to leave altogether when the little twink host in the tube top and hot pants stopped us. He quickly apologized for Gary’s behavior and said he had just taken a hit of X that was obviously bad. BEEN THERE!
So we stayed. The meal was okay. I found the meat looked like a big portion, but was rather limp and not at all as juicy as you’d think it would be. And the bartenders really need to practice their rimming skills. Every time, the job was half done, at best, and left me wanting more.
I gave it 3 stars only because it turns out the Redneck Cocksucker is pretty good after all. – Scott T.
This one too.
Clad in a fading Bush/Cheney ’04 belly shirt and cut off Bugle Boy denim, the sweaty Gary was dutiful in making sure my glass of (watered down) grape Faygo stayed filled. This was good because the main course of baloney-wrapped Vienna sausages and saltines was a bit on the tough side. If should have gone with the open-faced sardine sandwich with a handful of Cheetos.
Adorning the walls of the restaurant was the best in American value store furnishings and random cat photos. Tacked to the vinyl paneling was one peculiar piece: a yellowed jockstrap from the Oral Roberts University Athletics Department. Purportedly, Sam Brownback somehow procured it for Gary.
If the Indian casino bus ever travels through the vicinity of Enid in some time near, I may take another trek to Chicaro’s. – Luther T.
Oh god, this is gold
- Drag Queen Tuesdays
- The “steak” “sandwich”
- Bottle service for the slings
- Owner Gary James in a harness and chaps
- Depends Undergarments Thursdays
- The “Lebanese” “tabbouleh”
- Food service for the glory holes
- Owner Gary James in a harness and chaps
– Brian G.
Basically everything on the page is gold.
This place is off-putting on many different levels.
The owner Gary is too pushy; he came over to our table and basically ordered drinks for my entire party based on our appearances. He suggested I order the “Drunk Seaman” because “it looked like several ships have sailed down my throat canal”. It was essentially a White Russian.
My rather skinny and hairless friend was urged to try the “Twinkle Twinkle Little Twink”–a cotton-candy infused vodka that Gary said was so strong it would put “a hair” on my friend’s chest. Turns out it was rather weak anyway.
Gary told my one short, sturdy friend to order the “Power Bottoms Up” — a whiskey and Red Bull concoction (gross).
The pushiness aside, the rest of the place is a dump that smells like very recent homosexual indiscretions. One of the servers/go-go boys that parade around the establishment in banana hammocks informed us to watch out for the “wet floor” near the glory holes–which oddly enough seem like a sanctioned, even promoted, attraction in this very seedy establishment.
The drag show was decent…but Gary finds a way to insert himself into those too. In the final act of the drag show, Gary is called up to the stage to “swallow a sword and juggle some balls” (he is in his drag alter ego at this point, Mary Flames). Gary…err, Mary…then demonstrates her deep-throating prowess with some very unfortunate cucumbers.
Oddly enough though, I must give this place at least three stars. Gays in Oklahoma don’t have a ton of selection, and the sheer gayness of this place makes San Francisco seem like Putin’s Russia in comparison.
Please, just use protection, people. I’m looking at you, Gary! – Matthew M.
And apparently, the food is expensive there too.
But now, Gary looks like he’s on his way to become a gay icon. I’m sure he’s loving that.