I'm out last night at the PS Lounge. It's 9:15 pm Sunday, Modern Drunkard night, and I'm on my third Red Stripe.
The Hectics are guest bartending and I'm about to order a bullet with my whiskey shooter, when Dan leans over and says,"You wanna go see Barfly?" I mull it over, taking a long pull on Jamaica's finest. I survey the room. It's early. The only thing keeping me drinking here is Annaka's lovely smile. (Annaka is the singer of the Hectics, sheÕs very tank.) What the hell, I'm livin' it, might as well go see it on the big screen, right?
So we scoot across Colfax to the Bluebird, where I produce our free passes (reserved only for their finest customers) to the show. Striding forward to the bar, I spy two of my favorite tenders. Danny and Stan. Danny is a scruffy irishman who believes Dan and I are his best customers, so much so that he always buys us free drinks. I knew there was a reason I always go there. Stan is a tall, striking snowboarder with flowing brown tresses and a bare midriff (you scratch your head, yes Stan is a girl, but not everybody can call her that, most people still know her as Kristan). She is not to be confused with Kristen, the other lovely bartender who has the night off. Guiness is produced from the life giving tap, and small talk with our local public begins.
Frank Houser Jr. wonders at dying at the hands of a stalker onstage. I advise him to purchase a bullet proof vest. He smiles and says, leaning forward under his breath,"I've thought about it." Something tells me he isn't kidding.
Bob Ferbache approaches sheepishly, admitting that whenever the Hectics record at his studio, he turns the heat down so that he can see their nipples. I have a sudden desire to run back across Colfax and smash the thermostat at the PS Lounge. But I'm here for a movie. The guiness runs out (gasp!) but not to worry, we always get free beer when they change the keg.
A really dirty girl we know as "Josie" approaches the bar, she has a sultry friend in tow who is falling out of her evening wear. This girl is looking over my shoulder at another girl on the stairs to the all ages section. She playfully sucks on a finger, then passes it inside her shirt to rub a nipple. I drain my beer instantly. She winks at the vamp on the stairs. Josie and wet nipple girl disappear into the ladies room for the better part of twenty minutes. Sex or coke, take your pick, maybe both. JosieÕs funny like that. Smiling and hand in hand they skip down the stairs to the waiting dark.
Somewhere in all this time, IÕm halfway through a pitcher of Irish Gatorade, and the film has started. I watch the characters on screen I feel an unconscious desire to bathe. By the time the film ends IÕve had a pitcher of guiness and half a pack of smokes. Dan turns to me and says, "Thash my problem, I'm not drinkinÕ enuff!" Apparently he is disturbed that no women ever got in a catfight over him.
I drain my glass and smile at the pouty-lipped Stan. "See you at PS?" Oh, I am in love. We stumble back across the roadway to the inviting door of the lounge. Everyone coming in has just seen Barfly, the rest have been there since 7 pm. Drinking ensues. 11:30 Stan and Danny approach the bar, I cut them off and buy them a round. It annoys Danny to have me buy him beer. he responds with free passes to an upcoming show. Two seconds later heÕs bragging to some around guy about how Dan and I are his best customers.
It occurs to me, that other than being gainfully employed, my life at times is a little too much like the film. I know a bartender everywhere I go. I get a lot of free drinks. Everyone knows my 'usua'. Bars that are closed for last call will unlock their doors to serve me. I shudder. I feel a warm slick sweat on the back of my neck,as I look around the room smelling of sweat and smoke. Annaka, Bob and Frank and Dan and Stan and Danny and Maki, and Bill and Jean and Julie, and Josie and the Wet Nipple Girl, and I raise my glass and shout "TO MY FRIENDS!"
Wouldn't change a goddam thing.
© 1999 Rob Williams
