Get a god damn room!

So in the true spirit of “transparency” (everyone’s favorite word these days), and before he picks up a bucket of water and douses the prolonged kissers in the middle of the bar, your friendly bartender must first come clean as to his own misdoings  in Bar-land over the years. I mean just so he doesn’t come off too holier than thou here.  For when your friendly bartender was younger (a tad before last Tuesday, let’s say, when he wasn’t sitting in front of his fireplace partaking of tea and scones, wrapped in an afghan reading a book of psalms), his appetite for nightly debauch was not only voracious, it was relentless. And as he would careen through the New York bar scene roughly four or five nights a week, in search of that certain female who shared his appetite, short of banging on Tiffany’s window at 3 o’clock in the morning in an attempt to pick out a silver pattern to close the deal, nothing was omitted from his arsenal to score in the ninth.

So it should come as little surprise as he pursued those sordid adventures, with his brains in his shorts and his conscience awash in Jack Daniels, that along the way he engaged in public kissy-face while sitting on a bar stool. Tut-tut, indeed! However… (and this is a huge “however”, dear reader, and one he clearly stresses)… after kissy-face made it to kiss, and kiss progressed to kiss, and kiss rolled into the two tongued frigging tango, he was fast about the business of replacing that public stool for a private room. In other words, “To hell with this joint… my place or yours!” Yes he was far from continuing his mating ritual draped across the mahogany, carrying on like Lothario, giving a shit not who observed his actions. Which brings your friendly bartender to the aforementioned couple just asking for that cold bucket of water.

First of all, she was gorgeous… large green eyes behind rectangular black framed glasses (naughty MILF specs)… a built-for-fun body (wonderfully round in all the right places) poured into a white sweater and slacks. And just as a bonus, as if these weren’t enough to simmer the hemoglobin… lips the size of pillows for your kissing enjoyment!

He, on the other hand, this lucky son-of-a-bitch, can only be described as… what-the-hell-was-he-thinking?… in all the right places. This guy was ludicrously packed into a skin tight cowboy shirt, unbuttoned, it appeared, all the way down to his ankles. He sported designer jeans, pressed, secured by a massive belt buckle which was of a size to bring down a steer if applied to its forehead. His coif spoke Jerry Seinfeld, circa Season Two, and he smelled as though he’d just drunk a pint of Old Spice. Just looking at the two of them, he in all his western glory and she in all her just plain glorious glory, your friendly bartender couldn’t help thinking, What the hell is she doing with he??? (Did I mention I was jealous?)

“What’ll it be, guys?” your friendly bartender asked, toward eyes and ears oblivious to his presence. For after Green Eyes had set her purse on the bar she turned around with her back to it while Tex, pinning her against said bar, launched her into a four-and-a-half  minute kiss. (Let me repeat that… a four-and-a-half minute kiss!) Undaunted however, and ever the professional (a-hem) in all situations, your friendly bartender stayed patient throughout and when he saw them come up for air, he asked his question again but this time louder. They then forced a cutesy chuckle, feigned cutesy embarrassment at which point Tex, finally taking charge of the moment repeated my question to his lady in waiting who unbelievably ignored that question and roared again into one of those train station kisses. You know… one of those “I-may-never-see-you-again”, clutching beyond all reason, desperate fucking train station kisses.

Jesus! I mean had he just this day washed up on shore having been thought to be lost at sea for the past ten years? Had she just come into his life again after an unrequited crush dating back to high school? Were they having an affair, which is usually the case with displays like this, and every single moment must not be wasted? Who knows? Certainly not YFB, but having several other customers at the time, thirsty and not amid foreplay, he walked away from the nonsense to go and tend to them.

A bit later, and just to see how long it would take, YFB decided to ignore them, just to piss them off, but son-of-a-bitch it only pissed him off. For this couple was having far too much fun to worry about some silly liquid YFB was selling. But then finally, after an absurd amount of time had passed and just as your friendly bartender was about to go over and tell Tex to either place an order or give up the valuable real estate, as if Tex had sensed it, he threw up the two-fingered peace sign indicating two whatever-the-hell drinks he was pronouncing too softly. “Pardon me?” YFB asked, re-entering the sauna, “I’m sorry, but I don’t read lips.” “Two Belvedere martinis straight up,” Tex repeated. “Twist or an olive?” YFB asked. “You decide,” Tex replied, which marked the first time in human history that a grown martini drinker had ever said that.

Now there are two unmistakable sounds, dear reader, (as any bartender will tell you), that grab his attention faster than anything else. One is the sound of chairs sliding across the floor (usually the preface to a brawl) and the other is the sound of a knocked over drink on the bar. Well, thanks to Tex and Green Eyes, soon after he’d served them, your friendly bartender heard both of those sounds… at exactly the same time… as the lady’s chair slid out from under her (not from a brawl but a maul) putting her ass on the floor and sending her perfect martini streaming down the bar. These two ridiculous humps (and I mean the word literally) had clearly taken “glad to see you” way too fucking far, and now your friendly bartender was most unfriendly.

“Two things,” YFB said, leaning in with a low but deliberate tone, “I need twenty dollars for the two drinks and you two need to get a god damn room. We’re done here!” Then he mopped up the Belvedere river as he walked down the bar. Tex paid, they took turns sipping on the un-spilled “marty ” then thankfully without a fuss they up and left. But what came across as strange, and this your friendly bartender still doesn’t get, was the fact that Tex, as he approached the exit and as if we’d all just had this most delightful time, looked back and gave me a wink, flashed his barbecue smile, then shot out one of those one-fingered cool-daddy salutes. Huh??? I guess some people just don’t embarrass well.

Moral of the story? Apparently some people just don’t have any morals.

Over and out from Bar-land… see ya’ next week-end!

16 Responses to “Get a god damn room!”


  1. 1 physiobabe February 28, 2009 at 6:58 pm

    Oh, god – I think I know them!

  2. 2 Comrade PhysioProf February 28, 2009 at 7:05 pm

    That’s some funny shit, holmes!

  3. 4 Anonymoustache February 28, 2009 at 8:08 pm

    The wink and salute part was particularly hilarious….I mean, WTF? You should have tossed him a quarter and asked him to buy a clue.
    Great story and narration as always dude. Your description of Ms.Jealousy (ya know, the green eyed monster) got my motor running!

  4. 5 Isis the Scientist February 28, 2009 at 9:48 pm

    …looking into his eyes became too much for her to handle and they again roared into one of those train station kisses. You know… one of those “I-may-never-see-you-again”, clutching beyond all reason, desperate fucking train station kisses.

    I know you’re griping here, Scribbler, but these are the most beautiful kisses.

  5. 6 Eugenie February 28, 2009 at 10:09 pm

    Love it! Thanks for writing such an entertaining blog!

    I my old room mate and her boyfriend were like that- over the top PDA. They couldn’t understand why I flipped out when their passion started interfering with my homework (and sleep….)

  6. 7 scribbler50 February 28, 2009 at 10:13 pm

    Anonymoustache: If you had seen her, your motor would still be running. Thanks for the comment.

    Eugenie: Glad you enjoyed… and clearly I sympathize with your attempted studying.

  7. 8 scribbler50 February 28, 2009 at 10:14 pm

    Ahh, Isis, ever the romantic… but they should do it at a train station not in my station! Thanks, as always, for checking in.

  8. 9 leigh February 28, 2009 at 10:23 pm

    there is a line with pda… beyond the line, it annoys the shit out of me. and i don’t even have to mop up spilled drinks that result.

  9. 10 Isis the Scientist March 1, 2009 at 10:29 am

    Fair enough, sweet Scribbler. Your station will remain a romance free zone.

    You’re an amazing writer, blog friend. I had to comme back and read this again once I had my morning coffee. Brilliant!

  10. 11 sandy March 1, 2009 at 1:57 pm

    I hope and trust he left an enormous tip.

  11. 12 Donna B. March 1, 2009 at 10:33 pm

    I’ve seen such displays in bars and, for the most part, they are funny. As long as the clothes stay on. This is from another patron’s point of view, of course. As a former waitress in a 24 hr joint, I can understand your point of view.

    However, touching and kissing are not required for extreme hotness.

    Once, I was at a board meeting for a non-profit where two of the members were married to each other. They had just found out they were pregnant with their fourth child.

    I SWEAR everytime these two looked at each other, the rest of us had to fan our faces. They were sitting across the table from each other and could not possibly have even been playing footsy. And it’s a good thing too. The table was old oak and would have spontaneously ignited.

  12. 13 Jim March 2, 2009 at 10:59 am

    Hilarious as always Scrib!

  13. 14 d-a-p March 2, 2009 at 11:59 am

    AHHHHH…THOSE WONDEROUS MEMORIES UNDER THE “S”….
    NEVER QUITE AS BLATANT AS YOUR TWO PALS..BUT NEVERTHELESS..IT BRINGS BACK FOND MEMORIES OF A GOOD TIME LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY…
    GOOD WRITING ON LOTS OF LEVELS…
    GREAT WAY TO START THE WEEK
    D-A-P

  14. 15 scicurious March 2, 2009 at 1:28 pm

    Awesome. I would have found a condom somewhere (preferably by going through her purse which she was ignoring on the bar), tapped the lady on the shoulder, handed it to her, and said “the bathroom is that way, don’t take too long”. Girls sometimes embarrass easier than guys. But it probably wouldn’t have worked.

  15. 16 Kolby March 3, 2009 at 8:28 am

    First blog I read after wakeup from sleep today!

    —————————-
    #1 Top Search Engine – Google


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




Archives


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 28 other followers

%d bloggers like this: