Everybody has done the bar scene. It’s what you do with the bar scene that decides if you love it or hate it. Me? Never thought you’d ask. I love it and hate it. You didn’t think it would be any different did you?
One of my dear friends has a son. We’ll call him “Wayne.” Wayne’s mom didn’t particularly like his girlfriend at the time but absolutely adored me and was trying to set us up. So Wayne invites me to the bar to hang out with him. I, in normal circumstances would not think this is a good idea, but since his girlfriend happens to be the bartender I assume everything is on the up and up and I accept the offer.
I pull up to the address and immediately get onto the phone with my best friend because I know she knows every bar this side of the Mississippi and maybe more. I say "Wendy, I’m not in the right place. This is not a bar, it’s a bait shack.” She asks me if this particular car is in the parking lot and when I tell her yes. She tells me I’m in the right place.
Now I’m scared.
So I get my nerves up and walk in. The place is tiny. And it’s definitely a hole in the wall. There are only 5 or 6 barstools and 3 of them already got butts parked on em. I notice also as I enter that the 3 men are talking about shaving legs because one of them calls over to me and asks me if I shave my legs. When I tell him “often” he’s intrigued enough to ask if he can see. I politely show him I’m wearing pants and go sit next to Wayne.
Turns out Wayne is a pretty good conversationalist AND a pretty good listener. We sit and talk for awhile sharing jokes and stories until the girlfriend tells him she’s leaving and that she’ll swing by his place later and kisses him good bye. I assume that at this point he’s leaving since the girlfriend is taking off and go to pay my tab. He tells me he’s staying and asks if I will too. Well the girlfriend saw me there, so again, I agree. We continue to talk, laugh and shoot the shit when all of a sudden I feel my leg being lifted from the barstool. WTH? The guy from earlier, the one who asked me about shaving my legs. He’s hiking up my pants leg to check it out himself. OMG. Thankfully Wayne shoos him away and we go on about our evening.
Midnight comes rolling around and I decide it’s time for me to go. Wayne asks me if I would come home with him. Ummmmmm, what? I kindly remind him that he HAS a girlfriend. To which he replies, “don’t worry, she won’t be there.” I once again nicely remind him that when she left she said she WOULD swing by later and when she did then what? He tells me that if she shows up then she’ll just have to find somewhere else to park. Ahhhh yes. The drunken reasoning of a horned up man at a bar. I explain to him that I don’t really think that the issue is parking and quickly walk myself to the car.
The best thing about the evening though? I had a fantastic time and I learned not to judge a crappy hole in the wall bar by its bait shack cover. You just never know the fun you can get into when you step inside. My advice though before you go? Make sure you shave your legs.
As for whatever happened to Wayne? That’s a LONG LONG LONG, story better to be left for another day and another blog.
