Winds of Change

(photo by Steve Stone)

That nip in the air. Football on Sundays. Baseball fever as the remaining games all have playoff implications. Yes, summer is done and the crisp days of autumn are once again upon us.

With the change of seasons there is almost an equally tangible change at 1762. There seems to be a return to the laid back, low stress atmosphere here that first made a regular of me.

I saw a change in Pregnant Lily last night. She has really embraced her impending motherhood and looks forward to her new role as Mommy. I think that becoming a parent for the first time, especially becoming a mother, gives a sense of completeness and purpose. Of course there are fears of the unknown and worries about our own capabilities and adequacies, but ultimately we are left with a feeling of "Oh yeah. Now everything makes sense". Well wishes to you Lily. Parenthood ain't easy but I think you will be up to the task.

On the whole, I have to say that the summer here had a high-strung feel to it. At times the tension here was unbearable.

Sadly, much of the edginess was the product of what I suspected for some time. I have seen countless lives wasted, personalities altered, and opportunities squandered as the weak willed seek that increasingly elusive mother-of-all highs. Coke. Heroin. Must be some really potent shit. It turns honest men into liars who are eventually ensnared in their own webs of deceit and dishonesty.
They start to trip up by telling too many people too many different tales until we are left to wonder if they themselves even know what the truth is. Timmy says it best. "Be true to thine ownself". When you look in the mirror and you don't trust the guy looking back at you, a wake up call is in order. When you must weave grandiose tales of your mock accomplishments to somehow validate yourself and your existence, a reality check is in order. When you must condemn the acts of others to remove attention and suspicion from yourself you have a problem. A big one.

So, while I usually hate to see the summer go, I am looking forward to the crispness and freshness of fall as we shift gears.

May you all find inner peace.

Dog Fighting and Ass Grabbing

Monday Night Football preseason game was a Superbowl XLI rematch. The ongoing saga of the Michael Vick dogfighting got more air time during the broadcast than the game did. Seemed that way anyway. So a conversation starts up among me, Croc, and Cokehead Fred.

Cokehead Fred is not a regular at the bar. I have seen him in here a couple of times. Not such a pleasant guy. Very intense. Must be the coke. Has a kind of reptilian look about him. Like he would eat babies. His own even. During the course of the night he will disappear for ten minutes at a clip, come back to the bar, nose will start running shortly thereafter.

So we are in disagreement over whether or not the NFL will take Vick back after he takes the plea to the dogfighting charges next week. Croc and I say,"No Way!", Fred disagrees. He thinks Vick is too big a crowd draw. My opinion is he will alienate more fans than he will bring in if allowed back into the NFL. Croc says that the NFL commissioner, Goodell, will not take him back, especially so early in his tenure.

While the game is going on into the mid 4th quarter, Hector and Ellie, a couple of regs come in. We all know each other, greetings are exchanged. For clarity's sake, Hector and Ellie are a "couple", and all parties present were aware of that fact. Between fifteen and twenty minutes later I hear Ellie yelling my name from behind me. I turn and Hector and Fred are about to mix it up. I get in the middle, Ellie is already trying to hold back Hector, so I hold back Fred.

Croc ran over to Hector and Ellie to try to sort things out. Cokehead Fred had the audacity to slap Ellie's ass, which was bad enough, but he did it right in front of Hector. And then wanted to be right about it. To quote Dave Chappelle, quoting Rick James, "Cocaine is a helluva drug!"

Hector tried to give Fred an out by telling him that he was out of line and that if he ever did it again, he would beat his ass. Instead of eating the humble pie, Fred retorts, "I don't know why you're making such a big deal about it."

So while I am holding back Fred, I am telling him that there is no fucking way he is right in this. And that if he slapped my wife's ass I'd react same as Hector. And Croc echoes the sentiment.

When Fred somewhat comes to his senses he starts yelling over to Hector that they are friends and he is sorry. Too little, too late seems to be the running theme at 1762 Broadway these days. Fred is instructed to finish his beer and to leave. Which he did. It was the best move he made all night.

I am getting sick of people who do what they want to do, when they want to do it, without showing respect for anyone and then saying they are sorry afterwards. When we apologize, it should be for something we did by accident, or for doing something without realizing the implications of our acts while engaged in them. I'm sorry doesn't mean shit if you are saying it because you got caught. Or acted in a way that is not socially acceptable, like a fucking Neanderthal.

Like Fred's apology to Hector and Ellie, when Michael Vick makes his public apology for his part in the dogfighting operation, it won't mean shit to me. I hope the NFL is with me on this.