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Last night after work I decided I needed to spend some time with my good friend Jose Cuervo. Since nobody at work wanted to go out that night and I'm not really familiar with most of the bars around here (and I'm not the type to go to a new bar alone), I decided to take the 35 minute drive to the bar in the building that my theatre group uses. This particular bar has become like my second home, and the regulars and staff have become like my second family. So much in fact that I almost work there for free whenever I'm there... I can do and have done every closing duty in that bar with the exceptions of the cash procedures and setting the alarm.
There was this one guy there that I didn't recognize. He appeared to be the friend of some other regulars, but I don't recall ever seeing him there before. At first he seemed pretty cool, athough a bit on the talkative side. We were having discussions about the music being played in the bar at the time and he even invited me over to make a few juke box selections with him. I could smell a problem coming though, especially after he talked about needing some "sobering-up music" because it was then after 1 am and he had to be at work at 8 (leading me to wonder what he was doing at a bar at that time in the first place). After this he had at least two more beers and one (forced) puking session.
It appeared that the bar was slowing down for the night, so he, I, and one other regular who were still there went about assisting the bartender, R, with her closing duties. I double-checked the other room for trash and dishes then closed it down. The other regular checked the bathrooms. Mr. I need to be at work at 8 brought the dishes and ashtrays around the main bar room to the bar and took out the bar trash.
At some point during this clean-up time I wandered into the ballroom and left the door between the bar and the ballroom open when I returned. R, not wanting to be jumped by some psycho who wandered into the ballroom and was hiding and waiting for her, asked if any of us had been in the ballroom. This was a reasonable question because she needed to walk across the ballroom to get to the kitchen where the liquor closet is and some of the bottled beers needed to be restocked. Dumbass turns to me and asks me why she asked that. I reply the same as I did above. Somehow he infers from this that she wants him to go into the ballroom with her. R responds, probably thinking he just wanted to be nice and help her carry the beer cases back or something, "Umm, okay, but I need to go to the bathroom first."
Can someone tell me what part of that needing to go to the bathroom was an invitation to join her in the bathroom? Aparently I missed it, but Dumbass insisted that she was inviting him to join her in the bathroom. The following exchange happened thereafter:
Dumbass: "Did she just ask me to go into the bathroom with her?"
Me: "No she did not."
Dumbass: "Should I go in there with her?"
Me: "If you go in there you're going to get slapped."
Dumbass: "No, I'm not going to get slapped, I'm going to get rewarded."
Me: <firmly> NO.
At this point Dumbass migrates to the hallway where the bathrooms are.
Dumbass: <knocks on ladies room door> "R, can I come in?"
Me: <head-bar>
R: "NO!"
Me: "I told you."
It didn't even end there. A few more customers came in so we didn't close right away after that, but by the time we finally did close and R was doing the final bit of work with the cash register, Dumbass tries to persuade me and the other regular to leave. Neither of us were going anywhere. We all left the building at the same time and the other regular walked R to another nearby bar (our bar closes whenever the bartenders feel like it, most other bars in the immediate area close at 3 when the state excise department requires all alcohol to be off the bar, and at this point it was about 2:45) to wait for her sister to pick her up. R thanked me more than usual for walking out with her. I couldn't tell if Dumbass walked around the corner to his car or if he continued to follow R and the other regular to the other bar. In retrospect I wish I'd either offered her a ride myself or sat in my car until I could see which way Dumbass went then drive ahead to the other bar if that's what he did, although I do trust the other regular and I know he'd have things taken care of if need be.
I know the confidence-inspiring effects of alcohol. I've been known to rely on them myself. But what possesses people to think they're God's irresistible gift to women?
There was this one guy there that I didn't recognize. He appeared to be the friend of some other regulars, but I don't recall ever seeing him there before. At first he seemed pretty cool, athough a bit on the talkative side. We were having discussions about the music being played in the bar at the time and he even invited me over to make a few juke box selections with him. I could smell a problem coming though, especially after he talked about needing some "sobering-up music" because it was then after 1 am and he had to be at work at 8 (leading me to wonder what he was doing at a bar at that time in the first place). After this he had at least two more beers and one (forced) puking session.
It appeared that the bar was slowing down for the night, so he, I, and one other regular who were still there went about assisting the bartender, R, with her closing duties. I double-checked the other room for trash and dishes then closed it down. The other regular checked the bathrooms. Mr. I need to be at work at 8 brought the dishes and ashtrays around the main bar room to the bar and took out the bar trash.
At some point during this clean-up time I wandered into the ballroom and left the door between the bar and the ballroom open when I returned. R, not wanting to be jumped by some psycho who wandered into the ballroom and was hiding and waiting for her, asked if any of us had been in the ballroom. This was a reasonable question because she needed to walk across the ballroom to get to the kitchen where the liquor closet is and some of the bottled beers needed to be restocked. Dumbass turns to me and asks me why she asked that. I reply the same as I did above. Somehow he infers from this that she wants him to go into the ballroom with her. R responds, probably thinking he just wanted to be nice and help her carry the beer cases back or something, "Umm, okay, but I need to go to the bathroom first."
Can someone tell me what part of that needing to go to the bathroom was an invitation to join her in the bathroom? Aparently I missed it, but Dumbass insisted that she was inviting him to join her in the bathroom. The following exchange happened thereafter:
Dumbass: "Did she just ask me to go into the bathroom with her?"
Me: "No she did not."
Dumbass: "Should I go in there with her?"
Me: "If you go in there you're going to get slapped."
Dumbass: "No, I'm not going to get slapped, I'm going to get rewarded."
Me: <firmly> NO.
At this point Dumbass migrates to the hallway where the bathrooms are.
Dumbass: <knocks on ladies room door> "R, can I come in?"
Me: <head-bar>
R: "NO!"
Me: "I told you."
It didn't even end there. A few more customers came in so we didn't close right away after that, but by the time we finally did close and R was doing the final bit of work with the cash register, Dumbass tries to persuade me and the other regular to leave. Neither of us were going anywhere. We all left the building at the same time and the other regular walked R to another nearby bar (our bar closes whenever the bartenders feel like it, most other bars in the immediate area close at 3 when the state excise department requires all alcohol to be off the bar, and at this point it was about 2:45) to wait for her sister to pick her up. R thanked me more than usual for walking out with her. I couldn't tell if Dumbass walked around the corner to his car or if he continued to follow R and the other regular to the other bar. In retrospect I wish I'd either offered her a ride myself or sat in my car until I could see which way Dumbass went then drive ahead to the other bar if that's what he did, although I do trust the other regular and I know he'd have things taken care of if need be.
I know the confidence-inspiring effects of alcohol. I've been known to rely on them myself. But what possesses people to think they're God's irresistible gift to women?
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