Your friendly bartender had a most hectic week, (was away from his computer ’til this morning), and almost decided to shut down Bar-land for the week-end. But rather than have all you loyal drinkers drop by and see a “Temporarily Closed” sign to greet you, he’s decided in the spirit of good customer relations to at least open up for a coupla’ short pours. Okay? Then hopefully… if things are a marked improvement this week… all the taps will be pouring full bore next visit. But in the meantime, pull up a stool and drink in these few short pours.
To steal a line from The Sound of Music… “These are a few of my fa-vor-ite things”… these are a few of my fa-vor-ite lines ever heard in a bar. All true.
Quick with a Pencil:
This dignified gentleman was a regular at this bar and he always came in at the exact same time, (three in the afternoon), and even before he could open his tome which he’d always bring along for company on these daily outings, his dry Bombay Gibson was sitting in front of him. In fact, quite often words were never exchanged between this tweed-ish chap and that day’s pourer until he called for his check, and hour-and-a-half later, and after he’d finished the dregs of his third Gibson. Well for some reason on the day of this event, Dennis, that day’s pourer, broke their usual habit of silence and tried to talk a little “guy stuff” when he served the drink. Setting down the Gibson and completely out of nowhere he said, “Here ya’ go, Pal, this’ll put lead in yer’ pencil.” To which the (professor?) forlornly replied, without missing a beat, “Little matter that, no one to write to.”
Now to your friendly bartender’s ears that’s just sweet!
Rest in Pieces:
Back at that same bar recently written about in my blog, “The Whine List”, a bartender there named Eddie… a blustery Irishman with a beet red face and steam coming out of his ears no matter what topic you brought up or which side you were on… delivered what YFB considers one of the most incredible (to the point) say-it-all-in-one-sentence lines ever uttered to sum up a man’s life. And it went like this.
It happened one day that a longtime customer… a miserable bastard who was as cheap as he was miserable and whose middle name just had to be Ebeneezer… had suddenly passed away and the only female on staff at the time, (kind-hearted Mary), immediately began collecting money for a wreath of flowers. See, regardless of who the customer was (or in what regard held), if that person had been a regular for any period of time before his passing, that person would always rate flowers from this bar if for no other reason but to make the bar look good at the fricking funeral home. (Good advertising.) Well, that custom still in place, ear-steamin’ Eddie, (a chief hater of the deceased having cursed him out daily), noticing a gathering of donors forming to put money in the pint glass kind-hearted Mary was passing around, (and not wanting to be thought of as a cheapskate), walked over to the assemblage, held up his hand in the “stop” gesture when the glass came around to him, took a deep breath and declared from the bottom of his heart, “Ya’ know, I was gonna’ get him a mass card but this prick’s got no shot.”
Far from sweet but to YFB just perfect!
“Night and day… you are the one”:
Your friendly bartender had a nice group of customers dining one night at the bar when a well-dressed but disheveled businessman suddenly walked into the scene, wedged in between the diners, and ordered a Dewar’s and water with the clarity of one who’d swallowed a live pheasant. He was clearly three sheets to the wind. So, pulling him aside and not wanting to embarrass the guy, YFB said, “I’m sorry, Sir, but I think you’ve had too much of a head start. How about a nice cup of coffee or maybe a coke?” “Are you serious?” he replied, crestfallen to say the least, almost emitting an “Harrrummphh!” to complete his disdain. “Very serious,” YFB said, “you’re loaded!” “Geez,” the man then added, maintaining a mod of aplomb, “well then could you at least tell me the time before I go?” “Of course,” YFB replied, “it’s twenty after eight.” “Day or night?” he then asked, at which point he was quickly escorted out into the cool night air.
Over and out from Bar-land… see ya’ next week-end.