I was trying to sleep oh Thursday night, when I randomly remembered something that happened when I was a bartender five years ago. It's an unusual story so I thought I would share.
It must have been a Sunday night, because we were pretty slow and I was closing the bar by myself. I noticed an older man stumbling around by the doors, and I thought there might be trouble if he came and asked for a drink because I would have to tell him no. As I was thinking about this a women came to the bar and ordered two drinks. I got them for her and she called the man over. This pissed me off because I knew she knew I wouldn't serve him. I told my manager and she said just to keep an eye on them and let her know if anything happened.
The man was probably between 55 and 65. He was tall and fat with white scraggly hair and a Santa-ish beard. He had on overalls and a trucker hat. The women was in her 30's, pretty and well dressed. I never would have guessed that they were together. Well, I got distracted by some customers and the next time I looked over the man had blood pouring out of his mouth. He had broken the glass on his teeth, swallowed some, and kept drinking from the broken part totally unaware that anything was going on. The women was laughing. I called my manager to tell her what was going on, then pointed to the women and told her to get him out of the bar (I should probably point out that one of the least intimidating things ever is a 5'2 girl behind a 3 ft. bar- just not scary). She said something to me, and realizing that I didn't really feel like getting into it I made that universal bartender shrug of, "I don't get paid enough for this shit." My manager came out and her and the girl were going at it, with the guy just standing there still bleeding, still drinking. All three head toward the door as my manager escorts them out, and that is when the craziness happened. The guy stops walking, sways for a second, grabs my manager around the waist, and kisses her on the lips. Yeah, glass blood and all (she had to get tested for AIDS like every three months after that). The couple leaves and my manager locks herself in the office to cry for the next two hours.
Showing posts with label bww. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bww. Show all posts
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Patriot Act-ing
Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary defines patriotism as:
Pa·tri·ot·ism: love for or devotion to one's country.
I prefer Oscar Wilde's definition:
"Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious."
Last night I had a surreal experience. Before I get to that let me explain the back story.
When 9/11 happened I lived in Cedar Rapids and worked at Buffalo Wild Wings. Every Thursday was Karaoke night. It was a fun time with big rowdy groups, and always got a little crazy. One night a few months after 9/11 things seemed well on there way to the usual chaos. Then a strange thing happened. A little boy, six years old, got up to sing. He perched on a bar stool and soulfully belted out Lee Greenwood's "Proud To Be An American". I dutifully walked around trying to get drink orders, but no one spoke. When I asked people if they needed anything they would just lift a finger, a silent shh on their lips. Some were openly crying. I finally just stopped and watched, wondering why I wasn't as moved as everyone else clearly was. When he finished the crowd erupted, then things got back to normal.
Seven years later I'm back at Buffalo Wild Wings, this time just a customer. I of course want to watch baseball. Everyone else, it seems, is there for the Olympics. Groups of men in their twenties, another in their late thirties are suddenly experts on gymnastics, and can tell a breaststroke from a freestyle. The whole place erupts when America does well, and more disturbingly, when another country does poorly. These are guys that probably never went to their daughters ballet recitals, yet something brings them out on a Tuesday night to cheer for people they had never met, the only connection being that they happen to exist in the same country.
Am I the only one that doesn't get this? And wouldn't it have been more patriotic to be cheering for what I was watching, good old American baseball?
Pa·tri·ot·ism: love for or devotion to one's country.
I prefer Oscar Wilde's definition:
"Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious."
Last night I had a surreal experience. Before I get to that let me explain the back story.
When 9/11 happened I lived in Cedar Rapids and worked at Buffalo Wild Wings. Every Thursday was Karaoke night. It was a fun time with big rowdy groups, and always got a little crazy. One night a few months after 9/11 things seemed well on there way to the usual chaos. Then a strange thing happened. A little boy, six years old, got up to sing. He perched on a bar stool and soulfully belted out Lee Greenwood's "Proud To Be An American". I dutifully walked around trying to get drink orders, but no one spoke. When I asked people if they needed anything they would just lift a finger, a silent shh on their lips. Some were openly crying. I finally just stopped and watched, wondering why I wasn't as moved as everyone else clearly was. When he finished the crowd erupted, then things got back to normal.
Seven years later I'm back at Buffalo Wild Wings, this time just a customer. I of course want to watch baseball. Everyone else, it seems, is there for the Olympics. Groups of men in their twenties, another in their late thirties are suddenly experts on gymnastics, and can tell a breaststroke from a freestyle. The whole place erupts when America does well, and more disturbingly, when another country does poorly. These are guys that probably never went to their daughters ballet recitals, yet something brings them out on a Tuesday night to cheer for people they had never met, the only connection being that they happen to exist in the same country.
Am I the only one that doesn't get this? And wouldn't it have been more patriotic to be cheering for what I was watching, good old American baseball?
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