Tag Archives: bars

Tipsy Times: The Man With The Bread

18 Oct

Friday night I looked down at my phone to see a friend I hadn’t seen a while asking me to hit the town with her and her buddies. Normally I do not put myself in seemingly awkward situations. On this particular night I was feeling rather claustrophobic in the confines of my apartment and decided maybe it was time to meet some new people.

I got all dolled up and headed over to the other side of town to the douchiest bar. I did not give it that name, it is that, it is a fact, it’s on the list. This bar is just hm…I don’t know how to describe it. You have your mix off college kids, and older guys trying to hit on younger girls, and younger girls being slutty, well borderline slutty. It is quite the place.

That night was filled with random characters, drunkenness is the breaking of bread for the young generation. By the end of the night I had encounters with almost everyone in that place. But,  I want to focus on just one story from that night. I was standing nursing some drink I can’t remember the name of that my friend has bought me. She was standing near me looking around. This man comes up to me. He is a small man, and he is a cartoon character. That was my first thought too ” This man is a cartoon character”. He spoke like one, his facial expressions were not those of humans, he smiled too much and he stood like Elmer Fudd.

This exact stance, but without the gun and the rabbit

So he shall be referred to as Elmer from now on. So, Elmer walks up to me and tells me that this man standing next to him is a kick ass drummer who just played two sets at something called the Garage.” Oh impressive” I say. The drummer;s name is dave. He is wearing a three piece suit and has black-rimmed glasses, my kind of man. Elmer is still talking about this fabulous drummer. Then points out another guy ” This , THIS, guy just kicked ass too! He is on trumpet! They are awesome, these guys are going to make it! These guys played an amazing set at the garage!”

“Excuse me,” I chime in. ” What do you do in the band?”

” I am nothing, I am their manager.”

” So I shouldn’t believe you, because you are biased.”

” No, they are awesome. Would I lie to you?”

” How the fuck should I know?”

” Okay, ” at this point he lifts up his hands, ” I am holding a loaf of bread. Why would I lie to you if I was holding a loaf of bread?” In his hand is a plastic bag with a loaf of bread.

I am not understanding this logic and I am trying to figure out how he got B from A. I ask, he  has no answer. ” They played a great set , two sets, at the Garage. That is all you need to know. They are awesome they killed it at the Garage.”

” Wait, where did they  play?”

” The Garage.”

“Wait, no way, they played the garage!?” Dave and his horn blowing counterpart are finding me hilarious.

” You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Elmer says, ” these guys are the talent.”

I tell him I will not talk to him. ” You are still talking to me!” Now he is yelling. I tell his “talent” that they need to pay him more, 10% is not nearly enough. He is a pimp. I move away from him. Elmer sits on a stool and watches my friend and I exchange words with his musicians. This is uncomfortable. I ask about the bread again, but no one wants to give me an answer. We were all talking for a while, trumpet man plays the “let me guess your major ” game, he gets it on the second try and tells me I am pretty much the woman of his dreams. Elmer is still watching. I am still uncomfortable. It is time I move away. Dave follows me. He takes a sip from my drink, excuse you. Your black-rimmed glasses do not get you off the hook for everything ! Thankfully I was pretty much done with it, it was starting to taste like wax. I still did not appreciate it though. I tried to move somewhere else. It is not easy they keep trailing behind.

And thus onto the people at the beer pong table, I strike up a conversation with a joke obviously and it keeps the jazz crawlers at bay.

Still no answer to the bread, but I did get a ” If you are not a foodie, you won’t get it.”

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

 

 

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Story Time: Lonesome Bar Trip

14 Sep

I promise the rest of the Pub Crawl story is coming, but this post is about last night.

So last night I had an impromptu meet-up with some friends at a local bar.And for some reason they insisted on going out at 6:15, who goes out that early? And so I figured that we would start the night at one place and move on to the next ( and the next). So here we are sitting in this bar, and we are watching it get filled up, nursing our drinks and people watching. The clock 7 and one friend decides she needs to go home… one down. The clock hits 7:30 and the next  friend is whining about being tired. It is 7 fucking 30. Tired? Really? I ask if she is 80. She says no, then I tell her she is 80. People are rolling over from their afternoon naps at 7:30 and she is calling it a night.  There is no convincing her.

So there I am standing alone on a city street not knowing what to do. I can make a right and go home or a left and go to one of my usual spots alone. I sit at the bar and order my Vodka tonic, I watch some of the Yankee game, play around on my cell phone, look busy. A man comes to the bar, he seems to be a usual because he calls the bartender by name. He asks if he could sit next to me, I tell him it is fine and ask if he wants me to move over so he can have a better spot. He says no and takes his seat , with a pitcher of bud light.

He is definitely older, I would have guessed 40 or so right off the bat. But good looking. Had that sort of laid back air about him and an accent. He doesn’t say anything more to me, and figure I am in the clear. The problem with going to bars alone is guys usually think you are there to pick up guys, when sometimes you just want to sit, relax and have a drink. He leaves me alone, nothing is said. I am all good.

A little time goes bye and he asks if I know the bartender, good opener. I say not this one. blah blah. And it comes out that I took his usual seat. I make some jokes, and he finds me charming, I am much more charming with strangers, apparently. We talk about how I don’t care about what brand of alcohol goes in my vodka tonics or how I don’t even know the difference. I make a comment about not knowing jack about whiskey but I know you don’t  mix  top shelf  with soda. He finds that amazing. I leave to go to the bathroom, and I come back and he has bought me another drink… one that I wasn’t planning on having, but I mean what kind of person would I be if I didn’t drink it?  I thank him kindly.

I tell him I am a writer and he says that makes me smart, although I am not sure about that. And then we start talking about his dating of smart women , and so on. He tells me about his OkCupid profile and I laugh. He shows it to me, he is 40 and I guessed he doesn’t get many intelligent women from it. He is amazed I can guess that. I spend the next five minutes rewriting his profile. Yup, I did that, at a bar  for a stranger. I assured him he would get more intelligent women, he was excited.

I think it was the vodka goggles that made me give him my business card. Really I do not know what I was thinking. But alas, I doled it out.  He asked when we can hang out again, I steered the conversation away from that. He tells me he has to go and kisses me on the cheek. He stops,  and says ” I need to go to the bathroom”, but when I come back I am going to give you another kiss before I leave.

While he is in the bathroom, I have half a mind to just leave. But I could never be that person, I just like to pretend. I am a really good pretender. He comes back with his spanish self… did I mention he is from Spain?  He says his good byes again.  I feel people at the bar looking at me, like I am the bait on to catch a predator. I clear my throat, say goodbye to the bartender and leave.

His call is one I won’t be answering.

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

Tipsy Times: Hot Mess, Loving it Hell Yeah

28 Aug

Sometimes you look at a moment in your life and you say ” what a hot mess”. Usually these moments come after large consumptions of alcohol.

I have had many a moment in my life like this, not as many as some other people, but enough to be used to it. A little while ago my friend decided she was going to have her birthday party at this bar that is probably the skankiest place in the city. It’s just a bowl of sluts and douches. Till 12am they have a band and whatnot and then once the clocks strikes midnight the slut parade moves through and the place goes to shit. A dirty pile of stinky shit.

I was confused as to why , out of all the places in this wonderful city, she chose that one. I figured it was because she wanted to make poor decisions and not be judged for them, commendable. Like the good friend that I am I made sure the night was full of flowing drinks, mischievous activity, and slut interference.

Times were good.

We decided to move on to another bar… and then another. Until we reached our last stop …. one which is on the douchebar list ( a vital list for all new yorkers). This particular joint is ready to close while we are still in it and so we decide that the next likely step is an after-party at my apartment.  This idea is well liked by my friend. We stumble out onto the street at 4am, I turn to look for my friend so we can get going and she is gone. Nowhere to be found. I then see she is wobbling into a taxi, and here I am wondering about our after-party. A moment later I forget about the after-party. I assume the night is over, and I walk home.

About halfway there I notice some people following me, and by people I meant two fellas and a gal from the party. One guy, let’s call him Big One,  I knew before as he was buying me drinks all night and I know him from around school and such, but the other two I just meant. I ask why they are following me. They tell me they are coming to the after-party. I am puzzled. I explain that the after-party is no more. I don’t think they understand because they are still following me.

I get to my door, and they are still there. I let them in, offer them some drinks. I am wondering why these people are in my apartment, and when they plan on leaving. I am not in the right mind to actually do anything about it, so I curl up on the couch and wait. And wait… and wait. Next thing I know I am having an impromptu make-out session with Big One. Why? Don’t know. How? Don’t know. All I know is that it is all very high school and the minute they leave I wonder why I did such a thing. I had no such intensions. I think it was a combination of alcohol and feeling bad about all the drinks he sent my way.

Did I mention that the girl who was with us was Big One’s sister?… Yup.

They left at 7am.

How many more years do I have to do such things and not really care about them ?

 

Till next time,

Daffodil Sparkle

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