Ah… another story from the ‘ol grind.
Today started like any other day, just a bit slower because of the rain. I walked into work and it was slow… stayed slow… and might have gotten even slower… Up until late night happy hour started (audible groan). As soon as 9 pm strikes the entire bar stands up, and an entirely new group of people sit down. Hurray! Needless to say I was running around like a mad man… It’s like going from 20 mph and gunning it to 95 mph. Which is fine.
Anyhow a normal looking older gent walks in with a newspaper, sits down right next to the well (where the drinks are made and sent out to the restaurant), and orders a vodka martini with the well vodka. Nothing out of the ordinary there… About 15 minutes later he orders another one and asks to close out his tab. For some reason when he was ordering the second one he couldn’t really hear me, so I had to speak louder and slower for him. I thought he had a hearing impairment, something not uncommon in gentlemen with many years. About half way through the second martini is when things start to get interesting.
This is also when I started getting busier. He watches me as I make lots of drinks, wash dishes, and still give the excellent service that I pride myself in (even when some people don’t deserve it). Then he starts cheering me on, “WOW! You’re the GREATEST bartender in the world! You’re amazing!” At first I thought he was being sarcastic because he asked every single server who came up to the well to get their drinks if they thought I was the most amazing bartender in the world. I kindly thanked him, and didn’t really think much of it… Then he starts to ask his neighbor if they thought I was the most amazing bartender in the world. Now I’m suspicious. I immediately think that this gentleman is probably mentally unstable, and probably his meds are wearing off.
Now he stands up… and walks around the bar, talking to random people, staring into space, and mumbling to himself. He finally finds his seat like a one man game of duck duck goose. Now I look at him and realize, this man isn’t crazy! Only extremely intoxicated! Which puzzled me since I only gave him 2 drinks, and he was only 1.5 martinis in! For a man of his age, one would think he’d know his limits. Guess not…
Apparently his bed time is around 10 pm. Because that’s when he starts to nod off. He is desperately trying to stay in his chair, but is too drunk to pick himself up and sit back on the stool. So he’s half leaning, half sitting, and half drooling. Not a pretty sight, pretty sad actually. Long story short, I informed the manager on duty, and he already knew… he called security, and a cab. But the cab didn’t show… two firetrucks did. Plus paramedics. When the paramedics tried to give the man medical attention, he refused to be touched. That’s when the police were called. The man was seriously drunk and probably had no idea what was going on. The entire bar was watching his sad story come an embarrassing halt. He finally relinquished an ID with a current address and was taken away on a stretcher. Sad times for this man.
What started off as a boring night really ended up in an interesting, comical, but sad fashion. The man will wake up safely in the drunk tank or hospital and be released back into the wild in the morning with a major hangover. Now that I actually type this all up, it was even more pathetic than I remembered. I hope that old chap will be okay. Damn… All this typing has got me thirsty… better tend to my 40 oz. Mickey’s sitting next to me.
I’ll close with this picture of a .40 that I blew, which is obviously erroneous, on a breathalyzer last Wednesday. .40 would have definitely meant that I’d be near death… plus my blood would be as strong as 80 proof vodka… A walking vampire treat.
P.S.
He gave me a $10 tip in a $8 check… sweet.
