Harrassed at a Bar

2005-01-19 at 12:59 p.m.

Saturday night, I got with Irish to our little local bar that is near her apartment. I've actually gone there several times, ususally after work with coworkers. Typically the bar is near empty, and they're playing rock/soft rock/r&b, or some mix of that. Tonight we walk in, and we are the ONLY GIRLS IN THE BAR. There are about a dozen guys or so. No worries, we go up to the bar and sit, and order a couple of drinks. There are two people behind the bar, which is weird, not to mention, they're two old people. In their sixties. Perhaps the owners. The owners like country music. So that's what we're listening to. Thats okay, Irish and I just want to chat and catch up, so ignoring music is easy to do. Catching the bartenders' eyes seems much more difficult. Why they we're reluctent to serve us, I don't know. Anyway, we're not there long, and I glance up and see some guy is looking at us. As soon as eye contact is made, he turns to his friend and says, loudly enough for me to hear even though he's on the oppisite end of the bar, "Yep."
Me (to irish): I'll bet you anything he just confirmed with his friend that they think we're gay.
She wouldn't take the bet. So we keep talking. FINALLY get the bartenders' notice and get our second drink (an hour later? what?). So, we're sipping drink #2, and one of the "yep" brothers walks over to talk to us. Surpise. Surpise. He says his friend likes one of us, and wants to buy us both a drink. (this is apperently fuck with the only two girls in the bar time).
I tell Mr. 'I fell out of the 80s and it hurt' that they can buy us a drink, sure, but we're both married. And we went over to chat with his friend, Mike. Mike is, to put it mildly, a complete Drunk Asshole UT wannabe. Who also got kicked out of the 80s.
He's all harsh on Irish, "Whats the deal with your coat, you look like you were a shooter at columbine... why is your tongue peirced, does that do anything for you... why are you trying to look so goth, you might actually be pretty if you wore something other then black... Simply put, a complete and total shithead. The stuff we'll put up with for a free drink. Anyway, they ask us what drink we one, and we let it be guy's choice. They pick 151 Bicardi Rum. Ever had it? Paul told me, later, that its a step below everclear. This I knew when I got a look of concern from the bartender. So I was braced. And threw it back like water. Irish wasn't quite as braced, since she typically had a higher opinion of people then I, good person that she is, and had a coughing fit.
Then after we were accussed of lying because we said we didn't do drugs, and.. we weren't gay, as they expressed (I WAS SO RIGHT!!!) "When we first saw you," says mike, " We thought you were playing on the same team. You know, into softball."
I told you they were right out of the 80s. Bad cliche included. After that, we left.
I won't drink Bicardi rum again. Even that one shot was disgusting.
And, as a complement out to Fred - I mean my name is Dan. "No, you're name is Fred." No. My name is Dan..

So, do Fred-Dan-Fred, and "Mike"-Sit and swivle. And thanks for the gross drink.

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