Another Sorry Saturday Night: A PMS Moon?

It was Saturday night, the Indians lost to the Red Sox (payback is a bitch Croc) forcing Game 7 in the ALCS. I left home after a wonderful evening with some long time family friends I haven’t seen in a while.

I said to my self, “self I’m very happy, well fed and feeling pretty good despite my ongoing suffering.” So I decided to screw up a perfectly good mindset and go to the ancient dive on a beautiful October Saturday Night.

I came in the front, I expected to see the night crowd that usually filters in, I expected the joint to jump to either some head banging music or another fool playing Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab” (something some self-medicated regulars should think about).

But to my disdain, the ancient dive was near empty. Brad was hitting the highway as I walked in the door, Raul (a semi-regular) was even finding his way out but said he would return.

Ruby was behind the bar, trying her best to be friendly and professional. Why? The dive had just a little more noise going on than a morgue on Sunday morning. What the hell happened in this place. He staggered back in the bar (apparently laying in a dark corner out behind the bar) a semi-regular who I won’t mention for fear of being stomped, and I will keep anonymous for the sake of this post (like you won’t figure it out anyway).

Ruby fetched him a beer and I asked him, what happened in here? Why is this place dead? (He lit a cigarette at the bar and Ruby chased him in the back) I followed him to the smoking section to get the scoop. (Ruby rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath) “Well, PT had got off the day shift and she had a few, ya know, she was feeling no pain – know what I mean”... yeah I said as he caught his balance after reaching in his pants (for what, I don’t know).

“So, there was a few folks hanging out, Doc and his nephew, some others, Dino, Mickey and his old lady, what’s her name…well fuck it, I forget” he said as he sat next to the new bowling game. “So PT was still drinking on our side of the bar, she got really twisted, ya know and went into a schitzo kinda trip. She was talking to Pete’s old lady, then she pushed her and was laughing one second and crying the next.” He put out his smoke and eased his way back to the bar.

I asked him, 'so what happened?' “Everybody got on edge…then the Owner appeared, the ‘Bossman’ himself. PT had Ruby by the hair, snatched the back of Ruby's head, pulled out her pony tail and then she (PT) was going off about all kinds of shit. Bossman asked Doc to take PT home because she couldn’t drive. Bossman and PT got into an argument out back and her people started jumping into it, one of her newphews. All I know is that PT quit, she ain’t going to work for Bossman no more.”

What happened to the crowd I asked. “Why stay, everybody got the fuck out, too much shouting, too much bullsh…” he sneezed. I looked at Ruby who said she didn’t want to talk about it and asked the bastard if he wanted anything else. “No, I’m gonna go the toilet and do my business and leave. (The mens head was a wet, nasty, leaky mess). The bastard nearly tripped and smashed into the pool table coming out of the mens room. He left.

Now me and Raul were the only ones in the dive. I asked Ruby if she was alright. She said “yeah, I’m just fine.” Her sarcasm ripped into me like a bad joke delivered with a used Kleenex. Pissed was an understatement for Ruby’s state of being. Ruby was quite civil, very polite and brimming with resentment, not at me, but at her situation, an empty bar on a payday Saturday night. Ruby’s voice was not her usually melodious self, more like Darth Bitch with PMS.


I played some music and got myself into a fun frame of mind. Ruby, started to cheer up as regulars filtered in after midnight. The bar was essentially empty from about 8:30PM to about Midnight. An empty bar on a Saturday Night is sort of like an empty church on Sunday morning. But the regulars kept coming, a few couples then Raul came back, then Cary came in looking his usual sharp self telling me details of ‘Scaryoke Night’.

Hector and Ellie showed up (Ellie was hurting bad but in good spirits), let Hector know he shot several great games on Wednesday night, taking the team to victory in league eight ball. Then Chucky showed up and chilled out for awhile which really helped Ruby calm down. Some late nighters came in and the dive kinda got the edge off. But the carnage has already been done.

Another bartender out the door, another sorry ‘slap down’ Saturday Night, angry customers, alienated regulars and another pissed off Bartender who could have made more money selling porn in front of Our Lady of the Sorry Drunk, than she did in any other four hours on any other Saturday Night tending bar. I guess that’s why Shelly wasn’t here to share the joy.

Love

RJ.