March 11, 2012

A Guy Walks Into A Bar..

I was on the road last week and hadn't slept in two days. I went into a brew-pub to sit at the bar, have some Jambalaya and try to keep my shit together, as I had to get back to work a couple of hours later at 11 pm for an all niter. All I wanted to do was drink some beers, in an effort to keep running on alcohol fumes.

All was going along as planned, I was on my second pint (a nice, but not too floral IPA) and vacantly watching some shitty hockey game on the tube, when she sidled up next to me. I'd say she was about 24, squeezed into jeans a size too small, and had a hefty rack bursting out of a low cut v-neck with a pink lace bustier.

There was an empty bar seat next to me, and she appeared to be waiting for someone, so I told her the seat was available if she wanted. I figured 5 minutes and she'd be gone.

She starts to look at me. I smile and go back to watching the game. "This isn't my regular voice" she says in a nasal twang, "I'm just getting over a cold". I responded, "yeah, those colds can hang on, are you taking anything?". That's when the first salvo of crazy hit: "No, I don't take medications, because I'm paranoid and I think the drug companies are trying to poison me". My answer was "Do you really think a multi billion dollar company is going to risk it all getting bad publicity by killing you?". She just looked at me, and started staring off at other people in the bar- but it was that 5000 yard stare, not really focused.

At this point, I started to get the TV Eye from her. I said, "Hey, I'm down here from NY on business, and I gotta get back to work in a while. I hope you are doing something to take care of that cold." "Well, I have a hot tub that I soak in to try to open up my chest, I live about a mile from here" she says. I changed the subject and asked her what she does for a living. Cue the second wave of crazy: "I am trying to get disability as I'm bi-polar and depressed and I can't keep a job". When I asked her if she was taking anything for THAT, she of course answered that she wasn't, as the drug companies could be poisoning her if she did.

At this point, the "I can't find any nice guys/you seem like a nice guy/all the guys around here are jerks and just want to get in my pants" rap started. I finished the rest of my beer, got the bill, threw down some money on the bar and said "good nite and good luck to you".

I ain't a nice guy... but I sure as hell ain't that stupid either.


Anonymous said...

Nice story. The closing line is a keeper!

Nazz Nomad said...

thanks anonymous- hopefully you're not the girl I escaped from ;-)