This past Saturday I decided I would go into New York City and watch the NHL playoffs. This is everything that happened because I like to pretend people care about what I do.
As a reference, I’m not much of a drinker at all because I have seen how it can destroy people who are close to you and you love dearly. One of the most important people in my life, Matt Roloff of Little People Big World, had an alcohol problem. Watching that special little guy’s world get destroyed because he couldn’t handle his booze hurt me and I really try to watch myself.
I had been to this bar many times before and I consider it my New York place to go. They have good food, the waitresses are attractive but totally not unattainable, and the service has always been good. I knew they usually had sports on the HD televisions so there was no question, this was where I would go.
The bar was unusually empty so I sat at the actual bar. Can’t they come up with a different word for these? It’s like how the word poop can be a noun and a verb. I sat there anyway, you know the bar within the bar, approximately three seats away from the closest human beings already there, three girls, one of them clearly a disappointment to her parents. The bartender came over to me and as soon as I heard the Irish accent I knew I had picked the right night to come. I asked for a Blue Moon, a menu, and if he could put on the hockey game. What a nag I am. He accommodated me and soon the night’s festivities would get underway.
I made sure early on to scope out who the waitresses were this evening. Every time I’ve been there they have different waitresses, except once when the Asian waitress Ruthie was there twice. This was four years ago and I’m pretty sure Ruthie is dead. Maybe not pretty sure, just as much as I have a hunch that she is no longer with us. The waitresses on this night were two short and cute girls, almost impossible to tell apart except one seemed a bit bitchier. I don’t mean a bitch in her personality. I mean a bitch in her face. She has a slightly bitch face is what I’m getting at. Do I need a picture to prove it?
I sat there slowly sipping on my Blue Moon watching the first period of the hockey game. A large crowd came in and they weren’t too obnoxious. A man and a woman who have sex, I’m told this is called a “couple,” came in and sat as far away from me as possible. It was fine because I had the hockey game and a hamburger for company. What more does a boy need?
The group of girls left and were replaced by two other girls. These two girls were some kind of Spanish. I would say South American kind. Incans? What are Incans? They were definitely Incan type. I minded my business thought and didn’t bother them. That’s when someone decided they were going to bother me. The female, who came in with her husband and sat as far away from me as possible, stepped over and asked me if I was interested in sleeping with her while her husband watches. Nah I’m making that up. She asked me about the hockey game. We started talking then her husband joined us. He started talking and before we knew it, they asked if they could sit near me.
When they first initially came over they asked who they should root for. I told them I was rooting for Chicago because I know a few people from Chicago (Lily in Canada, A Gripping Life) who I like. I told them I also know a few people from Boston who I hate (those people don’t have blogs). This made everyone at the bar laugh, including one of the Incan girls. We locked eyes and this would become reoccurring theme throughout the night, eye-locking and doing nothing about it.
I explained hockey to the couple and they had an excuse for not knowing much, they were Australians. The Aussies were named Kaitlyn and Terry. The three of us continued drinking and discussing everything there is about life. I even introduced Terry to Blue Moon and the stubborn Aussie kind of liked it. They were everything you would expect an Australian couple in their late-20s, early 30s to be. They bickered in a friendly manner, they had strange senses of humor, and they seemed like they didn’t give a shit about anything. They were opinionated too and not even in an assholeish way, the way many people in America are. These two pals were not lousy Americans, they were awesome Australians.
All throughout the evening as the hockey game went on and we barely paid attention, I continued looking over at the Incan girl and her at me, exchanging pleasant smiles. I tried to see if she had an Adam’s Apple and she didn’t. She was probably looking for mine and I don’t really have a noticeable one. My plan was to hope the Aussie’s left and then talk to her. She ended up leaving before they did and as she walked out we gave each other the good o’le “Hey, I’d totally tap that” glare. It wasn’t meant to be between her and me. Most of all, I was just happy to have the confirmation that I am not a complete piece of shit and I am capable of having people smile at me.
To give you an idea how buzzed/drunk we were getting, at one point an Of Monsters and Men song came on and I thought it was a genius statement to say “Icelandic music plays while an American and two Australians talk with an Irish bartender. It’s like the whole world is in here!” Furthermore, they thought this was a genius observation. Kaitlyn told me they always go to bars when they go on vacations looking for fun people to join what we determined was her Invitation to Life. She said they take pictures of all of the cool people they meet in bars and sometimes they keep in touch. When it was time to leave I thought they would ask for my picture or any contact information. They never did yet for some reason it didn’t bug me. Normally I would think I didn’t make the cut, but I guess I was too far gone to care. Or better yet, I realized this was all we ever needed from each other.
The Aussies left and we said our goodbyes. They gave me some good Australian movie and television show recommendations in exchange for places they need to go to while in the area. It turned into everything I could want in a night out. I made some temporary friends, I did all but actually seal the deal with that Incan girl so that counts right?, and I have a good standing with the bartender who not took care of my last beer, but I also gave him a nice 30% tip. And to think, after 15 minutes of being there I felt the universe was sending me a sign by playing Lonely Boy by the Black Keys leading into Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand which starts off with “So if you’re lonely…” the night actually ended up memorable, at least until something else happens.
Should I become a full-fledged alcoholic?
P.S. We also had a 20 minute conversation on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and they told me about this creepy wine commercial.