Where It All Went Wrong
I've said it before: you can learn a lot in a bar.
Friday afternoon I'm having a buffalo chicken wrap and a beer for lunch while some guy a who looks to be around 5-10 years my senior is at the end of the bar downing shots of Jack and bottles of Blue Moon. He is pontificating in a way unique to end of the bar drunks. It has that same righteousness as southern preachers or civil rights activists or PETA members or any other true believer you can think of. I'm familiar with the approach as I'm not a bad practitioner myself at times, right down to that moment when you emphasize your point by raising a fist in the ear, wobbling uncertainly on the stool as that action has affected your already altered sense of balance and bringing it down in an unsteady arc to drive your final point home.
What made this drunk different than all other drunks?
He had a theory as to when it all went wrong that I've never heard before. I've heard the elements before, but like a genius chef who takes common ingredients and combines them into something new and wonderful he put them together in a way I had never heard.
"You know, we need to take a step back. It's a different world today than it was when I was a kid." he opined
Old hat so far, everyone says that.
"Anyouknowwhy?" he slurred. "Because stuff stays open on Sundays now."
I stopped mid-chew. This was new. I finally found someone who has use for blue laws other than when they make your drive through Paramus on route 17 easier. The best was yet to come.
"No it's true" he continued "All you used to be able to do on Sundays was go to church, go home, cook dinner, and be with your family. Now everything's open so there's other stuff to do."
Interesting I thought while taking a pull on my pint. So people only want to spend time with their families when there's no shopping to do. How could I have missed that all my life? But the best was yet to come.
"And you knowwhatelse? Stuff being open on Sundays is what made all the mothers have to go to work so they don't stay home with their kids anymore. Nobody thinks about family no more. I'm divorced, right? But my kids know my door is always open. They can come to see me on Sundays and I'll cook for 'em. I usedtabe a chef years ago."
I swallowed a french fry and leaned back on my stool. There were two pretty valid points connected by a leap that was slightly longer than Evel Kneivel's attempt to cross the Snake River Canyon. This guy was truly a professional. An outside the box (or outside the shot glass) thinker.
"I was sayin' this to a guy the other day in here and he starts talkin' about politics. So he asks me who I'm voting for and I says I don't vote. He says why don't you vote? I says because I'm a convicted felon so I can't vote."
At this point my plate is empty but I order a second pint so I can stay for the rest of the show.
"So hahahahahahah so hahahahahah he asks me what I did and I was gonna tell him that I killed a guy in a bar for bringin' up politics. That woulda been funny, right? "
The bartenderess who was being subjected to this tale nodded.
"So I told him, I told him well I was a bookie for 20 years see, and one time a guy comes in and he well, I got caught, I did my bit, but I can't vote no more. Hey why don' I just leave my card here and I'll come back later hah? I gotta get back to work."
Get back to work? I want that guy's job.
He signed off on his tab and went out the door in a surprisingly straight line. Relatively straight anyway.
I took another sip from my pint and looked around the place, grateful that such wise men still walked the earth.
Friday afternoon I'm having a buffalo chicken wrap and a beer for lunch while some guy a who looks to be around 5-10 years my senior is at the end of the bar downing shots of Jack and bottles of Blue Moon. He is pontificating in a way unique to end of the bar drunks. It has that same righteousness as southern preachers or civil rights activists or PETA members or any other true believer you can think of. I'm familiar with the approach as I'm not a bad practitioner myself at times, right down to that moment when you emphasize your point by raising a fist in the ear, wobbling uncertainly on the stool as that action has affected your already altered sense of balance and bringing it down in an unsteady arc to drive your final point home.
What made this drunk different than all other drunks?
He had a theory as to when it all went wrong that I've never heard before. I've heard the elements before, but like a genius chef who takes common ingredients and combines them into something new and wonderful he put them together in a way I had never heard.
"You know, we need to take a step back. It's a different world today than it was when I was a kid." he opined
Old hat so far, everyone says that.
"Anyouknowwhy?" he slurred. "Because stuff stays open on Sundays now."
I stopped mid-chew. This was new. I finally found someone who has use for blue laws other than when they make your drive through Paramus on route 17 easier. The best was yet to come.
"No it's true" he continued "All you used to be able to do on Sundays was go to church, go home, cook dinner, and be with your family. Now everything's open so there's other stuff to do."
Interesting I thought while taking a pull on my pint. So people only want to spend time with their families when there's no shopping to do. How could I have missed that all my life? But the best was yet to come.
"And you knowwhatelse? Stuff being open on Sundays is what made all the mothers have to go to work so they don't stay home with their kids anymore. Nobody thinks about family no more. I'm divorced, right? But my kids know my door is always open. They can come to see me on Sundays and I'll cook for 'em. I usedtabe a chef years ago."
I swallowed a french fry and leaned back on my stool. There were two pretty valid points connected by a leap that was slightly longer than Evel Kneivel's attempt to cross the Snake River Canyon. This guy was truly a professional. An outside the box (or outside the shot glass) thinker.
"I was sayin' this to a guy the other day in here and he starts talkin' about politics. So he asks me who I'm voting for and I says I don't vote. He says why don't you vote? I says because I'm a convicted felon so I can't vote."
At this point my plate is empty but I order a second pint so I can stay for the rest of the show.
"So hahahahahahah so hahahahahah he asks me what I did and I was gonna tell him that I killed a guy in a bar for bringin' up politics. That woulda been funny, right? "
The bartenderess who was being subjected to this tale nodded.
"So I told him, I told him well I was a bookie for 20 years see, and one time a guy comes in and he well, I got caught, I did my bit, but I can't vote no more. Hey why don' I just leave my card here and I'll come back later hah? I gotta get back to work."
Get back to work? I want that guy's job.
He signed off on his tab and went out the door in a surprisingly straight line. Relatively straight anyway.
I took another sip from my pint and looked around the place, grateful that such wise men still walked the earth.
Comments
I agree, stuff should be closed on Sundays... because all the companies we service would be CLOSED and it wouldn't matter if their circuits were down and I wouldn't have to cover weekends again!