The Bar

Two security guards were standing at the entrance of the little bar around 10:00 at night. They saw two human silhouettes coming toward them. They listened to them talk for a bit, and figure out that the two strangers were speaking a different language.

“What language is it?” – one asked the other.

“Hmm, I guess, Russian, they come here pretty often. Our bartenders know them” – the more experienced security guard answered.

The pair walked to the entrance and had to wait for a while in the short line. When it was their turn, the youngest guard asked for their IDs.

“Okay, here’s your license back, sir” the young guard said, as he returned the ID. Then he turned to the other person and said “What about you?”

“I don’t have a driving license, here is my passport for you, if it works.” The guy in the dark coat answered with an accent, yet his grammar was pretty good.

“Let’s see what you have then” the young guard said, opening a little red book. He was trying to find something, but the coat man immediately noticed that the guy just liked to look at new things.

“It’s on the very last page, if you looking for a date of birth”, said the coat guy, who smiled a little at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, I found it. Ok, let me look at the expiration date” the young guard told him, while the coat guy turned to the side a little, as he grew bored.

“Expiration date is on the same page you just checked” - the meticulousness of the young guard was becoming annoying.

“No, I saw that, passport is okay, I’m looking for the Visa expiration date” he said, answering in the same tone, not even looking at the coat guy.

He noticed that the other guard smiled a little but didn’t stop the process. These Russians were the last in line and it was, at least, something to do at their “very responsible” job.

“Why do you need my visa dates?” – the coat guy asked with an undisguised laugh in his voice, – “Are you working here part-time and part-time in the Immigration Department?” – it was so picky for the place they were going to and the other guard laughed and said:

“Seriously, give that thing back to him, man.”

The young guard intently looked at the coat guy, and gave him the passport back. He let him go and follow the other, who was staying inside near the entrance, impatiently looking at the whole passport situation, not even trying to help. Just when the coat guy finally got inside, his friend irritably asked him: “What have you been doing over there for so long?”

“They were checking my Visa, for some reason” – answered the coat guy.

“That’s weird, why didn’t you show them your license?” – asked the other one.

“I just told you about it - I lost it yesterday! It’s the third time I tell it to you, do you even listen to me?” – the coat guy asked and didn’t bother to listen to the answer.

They found a small table in the corner, sat there and started searching the waitstaff in the crowd. A lot of people were sitting at the bar. It looked like it was really busy.

“We would like to order a couple of beers and two burger” – they said.

“Sounds good, what kind of beer do you want?” – asked the waitress.

“Something like German light lager?” – they liked real European beer taste without fruit flavors. They had tried many kinds and were sometimes shocked at the variety of beers, while being unable to find what they wanted.

“I think we have something you’d like” – answered the waitress, who quickly went to the bar. She found two little sample shots and brought it back.

“Yes, let’s do two of this, please” – said the coat guy. And they both got their credit cards ready.

“Would you like to start a tab, or close it out?” – the waitress asked.

The two guys looked at each other for a while and the irritated guy said, “Separate”. The coat guy laughed and said, “Close it out, please”.

“It wasn’t the answer on the question she asked us, Timmy” – he told his friend in their language, which made the waitress laugh too, and she went for the order.

“What’s the problem? I said separate so she knows that we pay separate” – Timmy was irritated again, he was almost always like that after a hard work day.

“Starting the tab or close it out” – the coat guy was thinking. “Sounds kind of like choices from fairy tales”.

“It’s so smart of them, we don’t have this thing in Russia, did you know Timmy?” – the coat guy asked his friend.

“What thing?” – Timmy countered, finally drinking his beer. He liked it so much.

“When they suggest you to close the tab or open it. It’s much smarter. Don’t you think it is? If people give them the card to start a tab, they know he has money to spend”– he pulled at his friend.

“Hmm, probably, I always open it in case if I order more, and then I can save on tips. Less bills-less tips” – he didn’t like to tip, and it was such a Russian thing.

The coat guy was the one who always tried to leave more money for the tips. He remembered how his dad tipped, when he was a child and now, seeing people leaving at least twenty percent of the amount on the check, he understood how big the abyss between his childhood and this world was. Dad always left a couple of rubles for the tip as a “sign of decency”, it was about a 1 or 2 percent “decency”, maybe less.

The waitress brought the two burgers and two glasses of iced water with a lot of ice.

“Thank you!” – they both said and moved the plates closer, while pushing the glasses of water aside.

“Why do they serve super-cold water at this time of the year?” – the coat guy asked Timmy – “It’s too cold even just for the room temperature water.”

“You can just leave it, and not drink it, nobody forces you. So, eat your food then” – and he started eating his own burger, not giving his answer to the question.

“You drink the cold beer” – Timmy said with a smile, after a couple gulps. And he was right, so the coat guy didn’t really find an answer. They had drunk cold beer on the streets of Russian in -15 C weather, but wondered all the same, why here they serve iced water in American bars, in winter. Was common sense missing?

After a couple of minutes, when they finished the meal, the waitress showed up. She already had them sign their receipts and was just coming to check, “Is everything fine? How did you like it?” – she was smiling a lot, and all of her appearance showed a wish to be helpful to her guests. You will have to spend a good amount of time to find this kind of smile on waitstaff faces in Russian bars.

“Thank you, good”– Timmy answered contentedly and laconically.

“Thank you so much, we’ll come here again, for sure” – concluded the coat guy, standing up from the table. He thought of how she smiled and how it made even his mood more energetic.

“You so closed, Timmy” – said he.

“What do you mean?” – Timmy countered.

“People are very nice here, and they want to make your evening great, but you don’t even want to talk to them” – the coat guy tried to explain, but immediately doubted his own words: he remembered the surprisingly meticulous security guard, who seemed to be pretty rude to him.

“Nah, I always do it this way, if I don’t feel to smile, I don’t” – Timmy answered, irritated. “You can’t make people do what they don’t want to, do you understand?” – said Timmy, and it was understandable enough to close that conversation.

He was partially right, and the coat guy understood that logic. Why do I have to smile or talk, if I don’t feel this way? In the same time, Timmy does smile and talk, when he sees the benefits in it. For example, when he’s buying a car, trying to reduce the price.

They left the bar and got some cigarettes. They were talking about the past week and their plans for the weekend. It seemed like the security guards were talking to each other too, and the youngest looked across his shoulder, turning to the two people smoking as they went. When they finished smoking, Timmy threw the cigarette on the ground.

“Why did you just do it?” – the coat guy asked.

“Oh my God, you always criticize me for that. There is no place to put it!” – he really couldn’t find anything else to say.

“There is an ashtray, in two steps from you. And it’s your home, isn’t it?” – asked the coat guy, remembering how many times he started this conversation before.

“My home, what? My home is fifteen minutes from here” – Timmy said in defense.

“You know, what I mean, you are not stupid” - the coat guy answered, shaking his head and almost yelling.

“Okay, okay, let’s finish this topic, alright?” - and they both passed by security, as they went in the direction of their car.

Timmy was going forward and the coat guy followed him at about six feet. The young security guard told him, “Tell your friend not to litter in my country”, – he said, while the coat guy was trying to understand him correctly. Several seconds later, he added, “I mean – in our country”.

“I already did, have a good night, sir!” – answered the coat guy and he began to catch up with his friend.