Bar None
I'm currently writing this from my parent's living room, in Surprise, Arizona. Not much is going on here. Surprisingly, Surprise is a small town. It doesn't really seem like a small town, at least not by midwest standards, but while walking down the block, I noticed several old pick-up tricks and at least one monster pick-up trick. Surprise is certainly hick.
My mother cautioned me to not pigeon-hole Surprise. It's not only hick, apparently, it's also geriatric. There are several Sun Cities around here, and the geriatrics congregate into cars and drive slowly with much malice.
I've had a very long day. Many stories came out of it, as is wont to happen around me. I won't write about them today, though. I'm still digesting everything that's happened. Hey. I'm in Phoenix. I never expected myself to end up here for any amount of time. I mean, San Francisco, yeah, but Phoenix? It's home for now.
------------
I worked last night. That, in itself, is not exciting. Plenty of people work. A small number of them work in bars. But, an even smaller number of them work at my bar. My bar, if you've been paying attention, is not exactly a normal bar. It is, for starters, run by an alcoholic crack whore and is staffed with a short professional wrestler, a deaf philosopher, an assortment of bored college fucks, and its main business is regulars who belong in their own freak circus. I don't get paid often. When I do get paid, the numbers aren't right. I'm never tipped the amount I should be tipped. I have enough evidence that I'm being discriminated against that I could bring forth a lawsuit and win. So, why do I work at the Cellar? Because of the stories.
Last night should've been pretty dull. Everyone went home. I went to work, expecting to not work. M. was already there, waiting for me to not work. She wasn't working either. There wasn't much in the way of customers. C. and his wife were in their usual spot. I like C. He works as a custodian at ISU. Good guy. Also, at the bar was Extremely Drunk. ED isn't a stranger in the Normal bar scene. He's known for getting stupid drunk and then creating all sorts of trouble for himself and others. It's sad, really. He has a lot of problems and tries to kill them with alcohol.
ED wasn't doing much, for once. We had left him alone for the better part of an hour, when suddenly his EDness kicked in. He rose up, dropped his cigarette, bent over, and stayed bent. I was nearer to him than I would've liked. We were out of Bud and Bud Lite (Yes. The Cellar runs out of beer. Constantly) and I had gone to see if I could find more. I couldn't, but I did find an ED bending over, searching for his cigarette. I felt bad for him, so I picked him up, got his cigarette, and handed it to him. He stared blankly at me and made sucking noises with his lips. I must've been really bored, because I took the cigarette and put it in his lips for him. ED took a happy puff and I left him like that.
A half hour later, ED staggers from the bathroom, babbling something about a mop. I walk in the bathroom to see what havoc ED wrecked. At first, I didn't see anything but the light reflecting off a big puddle on the floor. There isn't anything strange about puddles on bathroom floors. People tend to wash their hands and sprinkle the residue on the ground. But, ED was gibbering about a mop, and I didn't see anything that needed a mop.
It hit me like the stink of my roommate's foot. The puddle was ED-piss. ED, being lost in the depths of his EDness, whipped his thing out and pissed on the floor. I guess he couldn't walk the extra ten feet to the toilet. ED stood next to me, muttering about mops and how he was going to clean it. I moved him aside, got the mop, and cleaned his bidness. ED was insulted. He grabbed me, tried to throw me against the wall (ED is 5'6, 130lbs. I'm 5'10, 160, and in good shape. Do the math), and failing that, decided to cuss me out for cleaning his bidness. I told ED to shut the fuck up and get in his seat. I also told M. to stop giving him beer. Well, M., being M., couldn't stop giving him beer. She's too nice and cute.
Luckily for us, ED ceased being a nuisance until it was time for him to go. We called the bastard a cab. It came and I went out to meet it. The driver of the cab was someone who looked like she should be playing bingo in a Church basement, not driving drunks home at 11 at night. I was a bit concerned. ED is quite unpredictable. But, I figured that if the cab company sent her, she must know her stuff.
It took me ten minutes to coax ED to the cab. The lady wanted to know his address. He couldn't remember. Instead, he decided it would be best to cuss me out. By that point, I was fed up with ED. I went inside and got G., one of our regulars, to help me out.
G. is big. Actually, big doesn't really describe G.. G. is giganormous. His left finger could fit three of me in it. No one messes with G., except for the law, which has regulated him to being a regular of the bus system, as well as our bar. G. is used to ED. I am used to ED. We both can't stand the fucker.
I leave G. to deal with ED, and head over to the driver’s side to talk to the cab-lady. I tell her that if ED gives her any more trouble, she is to come here and we will pound sense into him. She is also welcome to come back for a free drink. It's the least we can do after saddling her with the likes of ED. The lady seemed to acknowledge my proposition and instructions, so I went to help G. out. ED still wasn't getting in the cab, so G. and I picked him up, and threw him headfirst into the backseat of the cab. I then fished out ED's wallet and handed it to the cab-lady. I told cab-lady to use his driver's license for a locus.
The last G. and I saw of ED that night, he was struggling to right himself. We went inside, I gave G. a beer, and that was it, or so we thought. An hour later, police showed up at our bar. ED gave the cab-lady shit. Instead of driving back so that G. and I could have the discreet pleasure of teaching ED why he shouldn't drink so fucking much, she called the cops. But, unfortunately for them, ED wasn't in our bar that evening so we couldn't help him.
I love my bar.
My mother cautioned me to not pigeon-hole Surprise. It's not only hick, apparently, it's also geriatric. There are several Sun Cities around here, and the geriatrics congregate into cars and drive slowly with much malice.
I've had a very long day. Many stories came out of it, as is wont to happen around me. I won't write about them today, though. I'm still digesting everything that's happened. Hey. I'm in Phoenix. I never expected myself to end up here for any amount of time. I mean, San Francisco, yeah, but Phoenix? It's home for now.
------------
I worked last night. That, in itself, is not exciting. Plenty of people work. A small number of them work in bars. But, an even smaller number of them work at my bar. My bar, if you've been paying attention, is not exactly a normal bar. It is, for starters, run by an alcoholic crack whore and is staffed with a short professional wrestler, a deaf philosopher, an assortment of bored college fucks, and its main business is regulars who belong in their own freak circus. I don't get paid often. When I do get paid, the numbers aren't right. I'm never tipped the amount I should be tipped. I have enough evidence that I'm being discriminated against that I could bring forth a lawsuit and win. So, why do I work at the Cellar? Because of the stories.
Last night should've been pretty dull. Everyone went home. I went to work, expecting to not work. M. was already there, waiting for me to not work. She wasn't working either. There wasn't much in the way of customers. C. and his wife were in their usual spot. I like C. He works as a custodian at ISU. Good guy. Also, at the bar was Extremely Drunk. ED isn't a stranger in the Normal bar scene. He's known for getting stupid drunk and then creating all sorts of trouble for himself and others. It's sad, really. He has a lot of problems and tries to kill them with alcohol.
ED wasn't doing much, for once. We had left him alone for the better part of an hour, when suddenly his EDness kicked in. He rose up, dropped his cigarette, bent over, and stayed bent. I was nearer to him than I would've liked. We were out of Bud and Bud Lite (Yes. The Cellar runs out of beer. Constantly) and I had gone to see if I could find more. I couldn't, but I did find an ED bending over, searching for his cigarette. I felt bad for him, so I picked him up, got his cigarette, and handed it to him. He stared blankly at me and made sucking noises with his lips. I must've been really bored, because I took the cigarette and put it in his lips for him. ED took a happy puff and I left him like that.
A half hour later, ED staggers from the bathroom, babbling something about a mop. I walk in the bathroom to see what havoc ED wrecked. At first, I didn't see anything but the light reflecting off a big puddle on the floor. There isn't anything strange about puddles on bathroom floors. People tend to wash their hands and sprinkle the residue on the ground. But, ED was gibbering about a mop, and I didn't see anything that needed a mop.
It hit me like the stink of my roommate's foot. The puddle was ED-piss. ED, being lost in the depths of his EDness, whipped his thing out and pissed on the floor. I guess he couldn't walk the extra ten feet to the toilet. ED stood next to me, muttering about mops and how he was going to clean it. I moved him aside, got the mop, and cleaned his bidness. ED was insulted. He grabbed me, tried to throw me against the wall (ED is 5'6, 130lbs. I'm 5'10, 160, and in good shape. Do the math), and failing that, decided to cuss me out for cleaning his bidness. I told ED to shut the fuck up and get in his seat. I also told M. to stop giving him beer. Well, M., being M., couldn't stop giving him beer. She's too nice and cute.
Luckily for us, ED ceased being a nuisance until it was time for him to go. We called the bastard a cab. It came and I went out to meet it. The driver of the cab was someone who looked like she should be playing bingo in a Church basement, not driving drunks home at 11 at night. I was a bit concerned. ED is quite unpredictable. But, I figured that if the cab company sent her, she must know her stuff.
It took me ten minutes to coax ED to the cab. The lady wanted to know his address. He couldn't remember. Instead, he decided it would be best to cuss me out. By that point, I was fed up with ED. I went inside and got G., one of our regulars, to help me out.
G. is big. Actually, big doesn't really describe G.. G. is giganormous. His left finger could fit three of me in it. No one messes with G., except for the law, which has regulated him to being a regular of the bus system, as well as our bar. G. is used to ED. I am used to ED. We both can't stand the fucker.
I leave G. to deal with ED, and head over to the driver’s side to talk to the cab-lady. I tell her that if ED gives her any more trouble, she is to come here and we will pound sense into him. She is also welcome to come back for a free drink. It's the least we can do after saddling her with the likes of ED. The lady seemed to acknowledge my proposition and instructions, so I went to help G. out. ED still wasn't getting in the cab, so G. and I picked him up, and threw him headfirst into the backseat of the cab. I then fished out ED's wallet and handed it to the cab-lady. I told cab-lady to use his driver's license for a locus.
The last G. and I saw of ED that night, he was struggling to right himself. We went inside, I gave G. a beer, and that was it, or so we thought. An hour later, police showed up at our bar. ED gave the cab-lady shit. Instead of driving back so that G. and I could have the discreet pleasure of teaching ED why he shouldn't drink so fucking much, she called the cops. But, unfortunately for them, ED wasn't in our bar that evening so we couldn't help him.
I love my bar.
posted by Jon at 6:33 PM
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