I was thinking about this today as I was listening to a podcast called 'Tell the Bartender'. The host has guests on and they tell stories. The topic varies from episode to episode, and it's a lot of fun. It's something different for me. It's not sports related or political. Just another thing to listen to on my work commute. So here's a story about a kid talking to me while I was getting drunk...
It is very safe to say that the summers of 2004 and 2005 were my making up for not partying in college. I did go to a few parties in college, but not many. They were fun, but I was always paranoid about getting busted underage drinking. So I didn't really partake. I did, however, make up for it while working on Mackinac Island. Being of legal age while working there, I made too many trips to the bars. And while I may have spent more than I saved, they were the best of times. I made numerous friends working there. More than I did while attending college. These friends are who I consider my college friends. And as you would expect a group of twenty one to twenty three year olds to do, we drank. A LOT. At our house, at the bars, on the porch, in the kitchen, in the shower. All places where I consumed alcohol as I'm sure my friends did as well. We had our favorite bar, Patrick Sinclair's Irish Pub. Mainly because they tolerated us, but also because it was named after the guy that helped to build where we worked. It was almost a guarantee that on at least one night of the week you would be able to find either a whole group of us or a small number. Just relaxing and being college kids.
I don't remember the exact circumstances to this instance, but I was having a bad day at work. It was hard to have them, but was possible. About halfway through the day, I started asking my co-workers if any wanted to go to the bar after work. Just have a couple of beers and a shot or two and then go home. Something to help forget whatever it was that was causing the day to be so bad. After getting a few nos, I was able to convince a couple of people to go with me. So off we went once we were finished. Smelling of wool, sweat, and sobriety.
I remember walking in and it being around dinner time, so 5:30ish. They never had a hostess, so we found a small table off to the side and a waitress came over with menus, welcomed us back. I handed the menu right back to her and said 'I'll have a Guinness and three shots of whiskeys.' She kinda stammered and walked away after the rest of the orders were put in. We all chuckled about it and waited for the drinks.
It is very safe to say that the summers of 2004 and 2005 were my making up for not partying in college. I did go to a few parties in college, but not many. They were fun, but I was always paranoid about getting busted underage drinking. So I didn't really partake. I did, however, make up for it while working on Mackinac Island. Being of legal age while working there, I made too many trips to the bars. And while I may have spent more than I saved, they were the best of times. I made numerous friends working there. More than I did while attending college. These friends are who I consider my college friends. And as you would expect a group of twenty one to twenty three year olds to do, we drank. A LOT. At our house, at the bars, on the porch, in the kitchen, in the shower. All places where I consumed alcohol as I'm sure my friends did as well. We had our favorite bar, Patrick Sinclair's Irish Pub. Mainly because they tolerated us, but also because it was named after the guy that helped to build where we worked. It was almost a guarantee that on at least one night of the week you would be able to find either a whole group of us or a small number. Just relaxing and being college kids.
I don't remember the exact circumstances to this instance, but I was having a bad day at work. It was hard to have them, but was possible. About halfway through the day, I started asking my co-workers if any wanted to go to the bar after work. Just have a couple of beers and a shot or two and then go home. Something to help forget whatever it was that was causing the day to be so bad. After getting a few nos, I was able to convince a couple of people to go with me. So off we went once we were finished. Smelling of wool, sweat, and sobriety.
I remember walking in and it being around dinner time, so 5:30ish. They never had a hostess, so we found a small table off to the side and a waitress came over with menus, welcomed us back. I handed the menu right back to her and said 'I'll have a Guinness and three shots of whiskeys.' She kinda stammered and walked away after the rest of the orders were put in. We all chuckled about it and waited for the drinks.
We got our drinks and just kept to ourselves. Conversing, cursing, and not paying much attention to anyone or anything around. I drank some of my beer, took a shot. Drank more of my beer, took another shot. Conversed, cursed, and staying oblivious to what was going on around me. The waitress never really came by to check on us, but why would she when we ordered everything we needed right after we sat down. The empty beer glasses and shot glasses just kinda hung out on the table. I finished my beer, took the last shot and we waited for the waitress to get our check.
While we waited, there was a family a few tables over that had finished their meal. They paid their check and got up to leave. Before walking out the door, out of the corner of my eye, I see this kid start walking towards our table. He couldn't have been more than six or seven. He walks right over to me, tugs on my shirt sleeve, and said 'thanks for showing me your gun today!' Without a care in the world. I look over, and was at a loss for words for a second. The alcohol may have attributed to that. Just maybe. All I could muster up was 'you're welcome.' I mean what do you say to that? Getting blindsided by a kid like that. The mom and dad, of course, look at the table semi-full of empty beer and shot glasses and ushered the kid out the door. The dad might have mustered a 'have a good night.' to us on their way out. I don't quite remember.
At the table, we just did our best to keep from busting out in laughter. The kid obviously had no clue we were on our way to getting stumbling drunk. He just recognized us from earlier in the day. Oh, to be oblivious to the drunks at the bar!
Looking back, I'm sure the parents were terrified. But it's also fucking hilarious to think about. It makes me wonder if they'll tell their kid one day 'hey Junior, remember that one summer we went to Mackinac Island and that soldier at the fort? Well, he was completely shit faced and you told him thanks for seeing his gun!'
