Saturday, September 17, 2005

The past is prologue to the future. As I am just starting this blog, I am going to reminesce about some of the more amusing things that have taken place over the years and intersperse them with current events. There was the one rainy evening some time ago when a friend of mine, Jack, an insurance agent came into the bar with a co-worker of his for a few drinks. She was just barely old enough to legally drink and he was in his mid thirties. This gentleman had always had a flirtatious nature about him and the young lady he was with was certainly up to giving as good as she got. They sat there drinking their way through a few glasses wine while slowly, the rest of the bar, the early shift, emptied out. Soon they were left alone in the bar as the only two customers, along with myself and the bartender, Christy. The rain had changed from a drizzle to a downpour as they ordered two more glasses of wine. Shortly after this, they both got up to head for the restrooms. When you pour the wine in, you eventually have to recycle it. As I was engaged in consersation with the Christy, we really did not pay any attention to them as they headed to the back of the bar. We did however notice that soon they had been gone for a considerable lenght of time, much longer than necessary for the customary wiz and back to the waiting wine glasses. I walked into the hallway where the restrooms were located and noticed that the mens room door was ajar with no occupant. The plot thickens. I returned to the bar where I appraised Christy of the situation at which point she smiled and shrugged her shoulders in a kind of 'Oh well' motion. A few minutes turned into ten, then twenty. The sound of the rain on the roof was randomly punctuated with the sound of bodies thumping and bumping up against the wall. Soon the rain began to slack off and new customers began to filter back into the bar. The only evidence of the loving couples' presence at the bar was his cell phone and her purse sitting on the bar. Finally after about another fifteen or twenty minutes of wall thumping, the two of them finally emerged from the hallway. As they sat back down at the bar, Jack rather vainly and poorly attempted to explain that he had been in the restroom with his friend helping her as she had become ill. He would have been better to just keep his mouth closed. Everyone at the bar had heard the wall thumping and knew she was not ill. After a few more minutes had passed, he paid his bill and the two of them left. Now the only they wrong with this scenario of new found love was that I did not think that Jack's wife of twelve years would approve of his newfound hobby. I assumed that the next morning, or perhaps later that evening I would receive a phone call explaining his inappropriate behavior, perhaps blaming the Merlot for the regrettable circumstance. Well, I was right, early the next morning I received the the phone call that I was expecting, with one small difference. Here I am expecting Jack to say he was sorry for his behavior, afterall, I know his wife and two children, but instead he blurts out, barely able to contain himself, "Oh my God! That was the best piece of ass that I have had in years." This was not what I was expecting to hear from him. Over the next six weeks or so, a very torrid relationship developed between them. Sex two or three times a day, wherever and whenever they could. He was busy dodging his wife and kids around town, almost getting caught a time or two. After about six weeks of this activity, he showed up at the bar looking pissed at the world. I asked what was up and how his friend was doing. He blurted out that he just finished breaking up with the bitch after he found out that she was sleeping with the guy that she was living with. Just imagine the nerve of the bitch. I laughed at him which set him off. "What the hell are you laughing about?", he asked. I told him that I thought that it was rather funny to me that he was pissed at the girl whom he was cheating on his wife with, because she had the nerve to sleep with the guy she was living with. Unbelievably, he did not see the humor in this. I then went on to say " Well at least you didn't get her pregnant." To which he responded "No, not her!"" I asked what he meant by that and he told me that one night he happened to be very horny and his 'friend' was unable to accomidate him so he had to resort to screwing his wife. She became pregnant with their third child as a result of his misplaced love. Some people are truely unbelievable. That's about all I can say about that. Thanks for reading and have an interesting day.

3 Comments:

Blogger la diabla said...

sounds like being a bartender can be as miserable as being a nurse. How awful.

4:20 PM  
Blogger The Hidden Hippie said...

Well la diabla, thanks for the comment. I don't know if I could call it miserable all the time, but like being a nurse you sometimes see things that you rather not have to look at. One of my bartenders is a nursing student and we have likened the bar to a geriatic night care center at times, but we don't have to change diapers.

7:34 PM  
Blogger la diabla said...

yes! I used to work in a nursing home, on the night shift and there were lots of crazies. But no one was banging the walls as described in your blog, mostly just patients falling out of bed. Thanx for commenting back!

3:11 AM  

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