Thursday, March 5, 2015

Blurred Lines

When I was a bartender (Thirty four years ago), I had a method for getting rid of obnoxious patrons. I would get them stinking drunk, fast. Either they would realize that they were too drunk and go home, or they would fall asleep with their head on the bar which would allow me to tell them to go home. That is, if I could rouse them. I don't know what the bartender last night was trying to do to me, but that second drink was almost pure vodka. Which brings me to another drinking topic, drunks. Last night somebody suggested that there were three types of drunks, angry, sad, and happy. I am a happy drunk. Never when drinking do I get angry or sad. Always happy, telling stupid stories I think are funny, repeatedly, and by repeatedly I mean the same story over and over. The problem with angry, sad, and happy drunks is that you never know what the underlying issue is. A sad person may become an angry drunk or a happy drunk. You never know until the alcohol hits the fan, and then you're stuck with the results. Of course a sad drunk could only get sadder, which is always uncomfortable for me, the happy drunk. Last night Mark was the angry/sad drunk, a very bad hybrid. He kept going from being sad that I was making him move to the frozen arctic wilderness of Chicago, to threatening me with death if he got sick up there and died. I of course, being the happy drunk, thought it was all very funny. And then I remembered that kitchen knife set that I bought him for Christmas seventeen years ago. He still has that, and they are very sharp.

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