closing time
Jun. 12th, 2006 11:59 amClosing time.
There are few times in bars that stand out like closing time. The people that are left are your true diehards and the desperate. It is fun to watch the interaction of the horney and the alcoholic. People scurrying around trying to get the last decent looking lay in the bar, while the last decent lay is fanatically trying to get in the last drink or ten.
The pulse of the bass has now droned into the background as your body becomes immune to it. Your eyes have adjusted (for good or bad) to the flashing of the strobes and the sudden blackness between songs. This has become daylight.
At the end of the bar is one guy, fairly good looking too, that has gone un noticed by the horneys. He sits quietly in the dark nursing the last few drops of rum soaked ice. You can see him visibly tense up as he is noticed and one of the girls starts heading towards him. Conversation was never his reason for going out.
She approaches in her bubbly, half drunk way and asks him to breakfast. Oblivious of her come on he retorts that grease doesn’t agree with rum. She tries a couple more subtle ways of asking him home before finally giving in and asks him to fuck her. You just thought he was flustered before. Now he is trying t check her out to see if she will do. Not like he really has any standards, but he has to pretend for himself that he does.
Realizing that she is actually fairly attractive also he attempts to stand up. This is a fiasco even when he is not flustered. This man has not left the corner of the bar more than once all night. The nerves running from his brain to his legs have long since gone to bed.
As my routine begins, I begin cleaning the bottles behind the bar and putting caps on all of them so the fruit flies (that don’t exist here in hell) cant get into the liquor 9schnappes and tequila).
I know the dreadful moment of enlightenment is mere moments away. Soon t will turn on the house lights and play “Happy Trails” for the nine bajazillionth time. There is really no shock like that sudden reality of the hose lights. The illusion ends and reality sets in. the best that one can hope for is to make out of the door to the dimness of the car before they can see what their new mate actually looks like. Or heaven forbid, before they see what you look like.
One good thing about this bar is all the mirrors are mercury, this makes it almost impossible to get a really good picture of yourself in the bathroom. The red eyes look nice and ominous in the wavey mirrors. Not bloodshot and dead like they really are.
Kind of glad my bartender didn’t show up. I got to spend the night out here filling in for her instead of back in the office doing paper work. Now after close I get to drink alone in the office while I pretend to do paperwork. What are they going to do if I fuck it up? Send me to hell?
There are few times in bars that stand out like closing time. The people that are left are your true diehards and the desperate. It is fun to watch the interaction of the horney and the alcoholic. People scurrying around trying to get the last decent looking lay in the bar, while the last decent lay is fanatically trying to get in the last drink or ten.
The pulse of the bass has now droned into the background as your body becomes immune to it. Your eyes have adjusted (for good or bad) to the flashing of the strobes and the sudden blackness between songs. This has become daylight.
At the end of the bar is one guy, fairly good looking too, that has gone un noticed by the horneys. He sits quietly in the dark nursing the last few drops of rum soaked ice. You can see him visibly tense up as he is noticed and one of the girls starts heading towards him. Conversation was never his reason for going out.
She approaches in her bubbly, half drunk way and asks him to breakfast. Oblivious of her come on he retorts that grease doesn’t agree with rum. She tries a couple more subtle ways of asking him home before finally giving in and asks him to fuck her. You just thought he was flustered before. Now he is trying t check her out to see if she will do. Not like he really has any standards, but he has to pretend for himself that he does.
Realizing that she is actually fairly attractive also he attempts to stand up. This is a fiasco even when he is not flustered. This man has not left the corner of the bar more than once all night. The nerves running from his brain to his legs have long since gone to bed.
As my routine begins, I begin cleaning the bottles behind the bar and putting caps on all of them so the fruit flies (that don’t exist here in hell) cant get into the liquor 9schnappes and tequila).
I know the dreadful moment of enlightenment is mere moments away. Soon t will turn on the house lights and play “Happy Trails” for the nine bajazillionth time. There is really no shock like that sudden reality of the hose lights. The illusion ends and reality sets in. the best that one can hope for is to make out of the door to the dimness of the car before they can see what their new mate actually looks like. Or heaven forbid, before they see what you look like.
One good thing about this bar is all the mirrors are mercury, this makes it almost impossible to get a really good picture of yourself in the bathroom. The red eyes look nice and ominous in the wavey mirrors. Not bloodshot and dead like they really are.
Kind of glad my bartender didn’t show up. I got to spend the night out here filling in for her instead of back in the office doing paper work. Now after close I get to drink alone in the office while I pretend to do paperwork. What are they going to do if I fuck it up? Send me to hell?