A weekend . . . more eventful than most.
There was a baby shower with edible delights. (I accidentally dressed to match the theme.)
A dinner for 22 in the back booth.
A splits off . . .
. . . and spinning.
And leaving our mark. All over.
I almost didn’t make it, as I was exhausted and cranky after my night job. But I persevered. After all, I made a promise. A promise to MYSELF.
You never know what to expect when you walk in. Tonight there were maybe fifteen people there, a mellow yet jovial crowd. The Ting Tings and Chromeo playing on the jukebox. I took a seat at the bar. Saw a few familiar faces–some I hadn’t seen for awhile–yet didn’t feel like talking to anyone so perched at the bar I stayed.
The guy sitting next to me got up and left for awhile. He came back smelling of weed. A few minutes later, he attempted awkward small talk. “Looking for a better bar?” he asked as he caught me checking my phone. “No.” (Seriously. Why is it so hard for me to be pilot? Or at least not AWKWARD?!) Then his girlfriend game. Pheww.
I learned Carl’s serves Icehouse tallboys. (You learn something new every day.)
The word “strap-on” was uttered across the bar, followed by “I’ve got bigger tits than some of the chicks that come in here.” (Said by a man.)
Metro Station “Shake It” came on and I expected balloons and bubbles to fall from the ceiling. Or at least dancing. But there was nothing.
Then it was all 90s music for awhile–Real McCoy, Marky Mark . . . pure bliss. Yet still no dancing.
Enchiladas were served.
As I walked out, 2 Live Crew’s “Me So Horny” came on.
Just another night at Carl’s.
This evening, I decided to commit myself to making a stop at Carl’s, my neighborhood bar, every day for one week. Then, after getting home, I decided to make it even more legit by blogging my experiences (because I am so far behind the trends).
First, a little about Carl’s: it is located at the bottom of the hill I live on. This makes getting there really easy, but getting home a bit more complicated. I really regret having not sledded down to Carl’s last winter. The crowd is always a mix of the same and the varied. There’s really no better way to put it: the reliable faces are always there, but then there are the WTF people, too.
Tonight I went with the dual purpose of playing UNO with a few friends and seeing my friend Jon, who was in town from Philly. The longest game ever of UNO was played and there were some random drunks (the varied crowd) commenting on the game and giving high fives. Meanwhile, the bartender and the reliable were tasing each other with a taser. In the backroom, a really drunk group of Fong’s employees kept falling over things and singing loudly. “Shots” was played on the jukebox before 8pm.
As the night progressed, more and more people flooded in for Monday Night Football and free chili (which was actually pretty good, despite being referred to as “pee chili” by Cat). I called it “Hobo’s Night Out.”
Then there was an altercation and the police came. No big deal. A dude wouldn’t leave (“I just wanna play pool!”) and was yelling back at the bartender. The police came. Everything was silent. He left. “Superman” by Eminem came on. Then he got arrested about a block away. His companion, affectionately referred to as “Sleepy”, was allowed to go on his way.
A lot of Johnny Cash was played. And Jay-Z. When I left, top 40 dance music was on.
This was Monday at Carl’s.