The Strangest Guy I Ever Met
The names in this story have been changed to protect the not so innocent.
We turned the corner and approached the open door of the bar. The sign hanging above the threshold and the neighborhood clued us in that this was a dive. Good enough for me. We had been on 6th Street in Austin and had foolishly decided to walk to the open mic where we were meeting our local friends. Our path had led us by a wooded park and over the river - probably five miles in all. My feet were ready to perch on the rail of a bar stool and my throat was ready for something cool.
Amelia was standing just inside. My friend, Natalie was already there waiting with my guitar - flanked by overly attentive and slightly salivating men. They really didn't stand a chance - poor things.
The natives were friendly, to say the least. Seldom had this establishment seen so many female patrons sitting together blissfully resting along the short end of the bar. "Drinks on me!" announced the barkeep.
"I," he declared, "am the strangest guy you ever met."
The music was good. I was told this was the cream of the crop of Austin songwriters. The host was nice, but told me that tonight was not an open mic - he had a full roster. I understood - gave him a card and a hopeful wink and went back to rejoin my friends at the bar.
The bartender, rather - The Strangest Guy I Ever Met was engrossed in Natalie. His drunken counterpart, Larry the philosopher began telling us why she reminded him of a young Dolly Parton and we sat around laughing at their antics.
Presently, The Strangest Guy I Ever Met announced that he really didn't work here - "I'm rich," he said, looking me in the eye. "I inherited a lot of money a few weeks ago - I'm just helping out the owner." Then he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I know you don't believe me and I don't care," and I didn't - but I wondered.
He threw a beer bottle end over end toward the trash can at the other end of the bar. He missed and it shattered all to pieces.
He laughed - walked down and picked up the shards and threw them in the garbage. "Hey," he said as he came back to our end of the bar, "did I tell you? I don't really work here. I'm rich."
A bearded man stumbled through the door holding a bottle in a brown paper sack,. He high-fived The Strangest Guy I Ever Met and poured a measure of the mystery liquor into a glass. The Strangest Guy I Ever Met glanced over at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief and downed the shot. He then reached down below the bar and picked up a joint, lit it and passed it to his bearded friend. And so it began.
I stepped outside the door to stow my guitar in Amelia's car - a couple of passersby giggled, "it smells like pot," and kept on walking. By now a hazy fog had settled over the corner of the bar. The Strangest Guy I Ever Met sat on a metal cooler cross-legged and leered at me - that is until he put the wrong end of the joint to his lips and cursed loudly as it fell to his lap. He leapt up saying, "Dammit - where did that go? Oh there it is." He picked it up off the floor and re-lit it and passed it to the bearded guy who was doing his best to avoid Larry the bar stool philosopher.
We decided to call it a night & waved goodbye. Larry yelled, "Bye Dolly! Bye Reba! See you next time."
Indeed.
We turned the corner and approached the open door of the bar. The sign hanging above the threshold and the neighborhood clued us in that this was a dive. Good enough for me. We had been on 6th Street in Austin and had foolishly decided to walk to the open mic where we were meeting our local friends. Our path had led us by a wooded park and over the river - probably five miles in all. My feet were ready to perch on the rail of a bar stool and my throat was ready for something cool.
Amelia was standing just inside. My friend, Natalie was already there waiting with my guitar - flanked by overly attentive and slightly salivating men. They really didn't stand a chance - poor things.
The natives were friendly, to say the least. Seldom had this establishment seen so many female patrons sitting together blissfully resting along the short end of the bar. "Drinks on me!" announced the barkeep.
"I," he declared, "am the strangest guy you ever met."
The music was good. I was told this was the cream of the crop of Austin songwriters. The host was nice, but told me that tonight was not an open mic - he had a full roster. I understood - gave him a card and a hopeful wink and went back to rejoin my friends at the bar.
The bartender, rather - The Strangest Guy I Ever Met was engrossed in Natalie. His drunken counterpart, Larry the philosopher began telling us why she reminded him of a young Dolly Parton and we sat around laughing at their antics.
Presently, The Strangest Guy I Ever Met announced that he really didn't work here - "I'm rich," he said, looking me in the eye. "I inherited a lot of money a few weeks ago - I'm just helping out the owner." Then he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I know you don't believe me and I don't care," and I didn't - but I wondered.
He threw a beer bottle end over end toward the trash can at the other end of the bar. He missed and it shattered all to pieces.
He laughed - walked down and picked up the shards and threw them in the garbage. "Hey," he said as he came back to our end of the bar, "did I tell you? I don't really work here. I'm rich."
A bearded man stumbled through the door holding a bottle in a brown paper sack,. He high-fived The Strangest Guy I Ever Met and poured a measure of the mystery liquor into a glass. The Strangest Guy I Ever Met glanced over at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief and downed the shot. He then reached down below the bar and picked up a joint, lit it and passed it to his bearded friend. And so it began.
I stepped outside the door to stow my guitar in Amelia's car - a couple of passersby giggled, "it smells like pot," and kept on walking. By now a hazy fog had settled over the corner of the bar. The Strangest Guy I Ever Met sat on a metal cooler cross-legged and leered at me - that is until he put the wrong end of the joint to his lips and cursed loudly as it fell to his lap. He leapt up saying, "Dammit - where did that go? Oh there it is." He picked it up off the floor and re-lit it and passed it to the bearded guy who was doing his best to avoid Larry the bar stool philosopher.
We decided to call it a night & waved goodbye. Larry yelled, "Bye Dolly! Bye Reba! See you next time."
Indeed.
1 Comments:
Great Story Amanda, lol
By the way did I tell you I really aint a web guy,,,,,, :)
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