on 20/04/11 at 3:48 pma woman walks into a bar..., BoozeBlog
Noon. Tuesday. We’re supposed to meet here for the much anticipated Irish Car Bomb Lunch but, at the last minute, attendees had other more pressing things to attend to. I show up in case someone didn’t get the memo. Sur ‘nuf, friend X rolls into the parking lot, fashionably late, and decide that since we’re here, we might as well have a pick-me-up and descend into the safety of divebar darkness, the venerable Drawing Room. Since we are the only two to show up, we bypass the Car Bomb, putting it off til next week when we have a minion, and order a couple of illustrious Bloody Marys. We sit at the bar. Schmooze. Bartenderess is kind of in rude mode.
A couple of Drawing Room folks mill around stringing up Mexican themed decorations for a party they’re throwing for a regular who’s leaving for the unknown killing fields of Mexico. Sorry Mexico. We love you but don’t like the idea of getting killed for hanging around on a beach. Anyway, X & I innocently sip our Bloody Marys and…what’s this? With a trilling “Hello!” in walks super friend, Y, who did not get the memo about Car Bomb Tuesday. We are so happy to see Y because she is one clever, witty cookie and who doesn’t like that?
We move from our bar stools and slide into the enveloping naugahyde arms of a corner booth where we can sit and chew the fat. We chit, we chat, inexorably moving toward talking about sex and the always popular question: “Who was your best fuck?” Y, “J in Hong Kong was the best fuck ever. He wanted to fuck all the time. I love it when guys want it all the time. It’s really flattering.” Hmmm. “And that’s because?” “It means they want you. And it’s always better without KY jelly so it actually would have been better for him to be smaller…” Which triggers us to segue to the second most popular bon mots about dick size. Friend A wants to tell us his best lover but we get side-tracked by our collective AADD and move on to other pressing personal issues like ‘to wax or not to wax’. Midday drinking is liberating.
It’s only 1:30 in the afternoon, people start to stream in, take their place at the bar. Some drinkers move in ‘n out fast, others stop by to wish Don – the guy leaving for Mexico – to wish him well. Me: “Nice to meetcha Don…can I take your picture?” “Sure!” Don poses just so. “You’re really handsome.” “Yeah, I got that goin’ for me.” He’s heading to Cancún cause there’s no business in these parts and a friend might have somethin’ down there. Without the camera, Don smiles a big almost toothless grin. The meaning of handsome takes a left turn.
Friends find out where we are and threaten to join us. They do. More Bloody Marys. N, smartypants, calls every freaking song on the jukebox…Mötley Crüe Girls Girls Girls, Van Halen Hot For Teacher, The Cramps…and on and on. She doesn’t miss a beat. L chats up clever girl. Everyone seamlessly integrates. Another round keeps the conversation lubricated. When it suddenly dawns on us…work? Oh, christ. And with the speed of a whirlwind, we gather our stuff and head out to excruciating sunlight.
Note: Friends’ names are cleverly disguised by using letters as drinking midday could be an occupational hazard.
Got a midday drinking adventure? Do share and we’ll post it!