I didn't really think that I was going to miss working at the pub, but then the following happened this weekend.
Joe comes in most weekends in the early afternoon and perches himself at the bar. He's a handsome 20-something fellow, with dark hair and green eyes, so I wondered why Joe would come in every weekend and spends hours alone. He talks very little, watches ESPN on the big screen, and drinks Guinness until the band starts playing around 10pm. If Joe were of the garden variety, he'd be sprouting roots at the pub.
This weekend, Joe's routine began as usual. But later in the evening, he seemed to hit it off with Mary, another regular. I worked a 13-hour shift Saturday, so I watched the drama unfold out like a bad coming-of-age movie. Before the night was out, Mary was bragging to all the staff the she was taking Joe home with her for the night. It didn't strike any of us as something terribly unusual. These sorts of things happen at the bar. People meet, drink too much, and hook-up.
But just over an hour later, near closing time, Mary called in a panic.
"Look, I know you're not responsible," she began, "but I didn't know where else to call."
"What happened?"
"Joe came home with me, right? But as soon as he got in my apartment, he whipped it out and started peeing on my walls and floors," Mary talked rapidly and in a hushed tone. "I'm not sure what to do?"
After Joe relieved himself on Mary's painted walls and hardwood floors, he promptly passed out on her couch for the remainder of the evening.
I couldn't imagine what possessed Mary to call the bar and share her little tale with us. I also couldn't imagine how the conversation went for Mary and Joe the morning after. I was dying to ask Joe the next day when he showed up at 11am at the pub, but I managed to control myself and refrained from asking how his evening went. I'm not that brave.
Joe took his usual stool and ordered a Guinness beer, which he promptly spilled on the hardwood floors at the pub. I was sure this was somehow symbolic of something more and decided to forego the mop and leave the puddle of beer beneath Joe's stool for the remainder of his visit.
Sad to say, Joe didn't even notice.
Credits
5 comments:
Stories like that would be another good reason for you to leave your side job, Diane. That's a very disturbing view of the human condition. I'm sure hope you don't see anything that hopeless in your other job.
Ewww, disturbing story. If he was really passed out, she shoulda shoved him right out the door and covered him in syrup or something.
haha... that's really funny. if i worked at the bar, both of the regulars would probably get all sorts of hell when they came back again. "watch out mary, you'd better make sure this one's potty trained!"
i'm sure you'll get all sorts of stories and updates when you go back to the bar to visit.
lol...Let us know if they hook up for an encore performance.
LMOA! How weird. MAybe he was really drunk. I've heard of guys doing weird things like that when they are drunk. WOW.
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