Drunken Musings on a Friday Night

Work was busy; I had a stack of cash. My legs and back ached from serving tables all day. I had my adrenaline spike even though I was greatly fatigued. I counted the dollars. “Money to burn!” I whispered. I then put my black apron away. I rolled it up and kept it at my side. I placed my apron and server book into the basket of my bike outside of the restaurant.

Then, I began my trek of a couple miles on my mountain bike on a mission. A mission to get drunk! I selfishly grinned. “I’ve been waiting all day to have a drink!” I said to myself. I rode my bike along my familiar path. I saw the bar from a couple blocks away. My mouth watered as I got closer. I was parched!

Parking and then locking my bike, I sauntered down to the bar. I walked through the glass doors on a balmy night. I made my way to the patio. I had a toke from my pen. I ghosted and chiefed it until I was coughing. Satisfied, a false sense of relief washed over me. I paused, noticing that my senses had returned or dulled… Depending on how you look at it. Everything seemed more vivid, yet hazy at the same time. I felt more in touch with nature at that moment.

The old oak trees were so still in the humid, stagnant air. The night was thick with secrets and a palpable energy. I couldn’t discern if it was positive or negative. “The workers didn’t bother to even wipe down the doors!” I remarked. Viewing all the fingerprints cloud the patio glass doors. “What a DUMP!” I scoffed. Chuckling to myself, I knew what I wanted to do. It was time to get a drink! I went inside.

I peered into this inky, dingy waste of a room with its peeling ceiling tile. The lights dimmed, giving everything a hazy glow. I suppose anything could look good with the right lighting. The pool tables with people crowded around… They were a sight to see! The place was hopping on a Friday night. The guests were all sitting at their barstools. Were they waiting for something to happen? For the beat to drop?!

“SHEESH!” It’s acrid odor of smoke wafting through the air burned my nose hairs straight off. “MY kind of PLACE!” I murmured to myself. I lit my Marlboro Menthol 100 with eagerness. One of the only bars around here where I could smoke a cigarette in peace. I joined my fair- weather friends and plopped down on one of the uncomfortable wooden stools.

Alchemy, Boozer, Barfly, Lush and Winos were the adjectives to describe these misfits. I stared longingly at the stacks of PBR cans against the wall. It was time for my drinking to begin.

My drinking career was one of the self- serving kind. It was an area of my life that I felt like I could control. Little did I know how different my outlook on alcohol would change as the night wore on. As the years wore on… As time itself imprisoned me with these drunken musings.