So I walked into this bar . . .
A few weeks ago, I was at a friend's birthday party at a local Restaurant & bar. The first crowd had already arrived & were settled in with their appetizers & drinks, so I floated over to the bar to order one too.
The funny thing about this "bar" was the negative attention. I'm not talking about the "leering" kind - but that there was absolutely no attention paid - at all. And it was an all-male staff, and there was absolutely no one ahead of me. I figured me 1) being a customer and 2) a female meant that getting the attention of the bartender would be quick and simple. Not so much.
By the time I flagged him down he begrudgingly, out of breath -carded me.
Getting carded used to annoy the heck out of me because I'd be out with a crowd who'd turned 21 yesterday and I'd be well over (and the oldest), and yet I'd be the ONLY one who was carded. I mean, my little sister AND brother who supposedly look like my TWINS would not get carded at the same places I did and we'd all walk in together. . . .
These days, getting carded is a novelty, and so I just smile, dig into my purse and say "why yes you MAY see my ID sir."
But by the time I'd put my ID on the counter of the bar, the bartender had disappeared again- so he was oblivious to my flattered reaction. And there I stood. ID card at the ready. No drink order in. For five more minutes.
This old man (like 70) and already sipping on his Gin & Tonic noticed my ID sitting lonesome on the counter awaiting the approval and service of the bartender who had forgotten my existence. He turned to me and said -"Be happy they're still asking kid!"
and I said, "I am, I am!"
Then he said "Thank God for those genes."
I agreed. "Oh I do. "
And he continued. "I don't believe in him, but Thank Him."
So I couldn't help myself and said "You don't believe in God? Why not?"
And he answered with a gruff "I am a man of Science."
And I still had no attention from the bartender so I said. "Well, I believe that God invented science!"
And the old man grunted a bit, turned his entire body away from me, and left me to wait on the bartender some more. Alone. Without anymore "friendly" conversation to pass the time.
I thought I was being witty.
And hello? What's it going to take to get a drink around this place?
The bartender finally sauntered back over to me, compared the picture with my face 12 times, felt it's consistency, checked the birth year, did the math in his head, and then (still unconvinced) handed it back with an "okay what can I get you?" 5 more minutes passed before he'd poured it.
When he told me how much I owed, he walked away again, and I got so tired of waiting for my change I left without it.
The drink, meanwhile, tasted like a Jamba Juice and was twice the price! I thought it was supposed to make me "tipsy" not want to go workout later.
And people go to bars as a preferred "to do on a Friday night". . . why?
And no, it was NOT in West Hollywood.
