First Person Point of View at a Bar (Part I)

I decided to write a short story about a first person's point of view at a bar. Of course I think it is awesome because I wrote it. If people disagree, well that is the American way and it is okay. If this was like 1234 in Ireland and people didn't like what I wrote, I would knife them in their sleep.

Anyway, I should explain this, so it's understandable. Basically, a guy is recalling one of his bar experiences. If there are quotations, he remembers that exact comment. If not, he's making guesstimations what was said at the time.

Keep in mind he is really drunk, so you may have to use your imagination remembering how your mind works and the things you say to yourself when you are "in the tank." So this should make it more understandable when you read it - The guy is drunk.

About 90% of this was written in an inebriated stage. I thought it would be a better representation if I was a little tipsy when I sat down to write. That made it difficult with timing because I would only write while I was drinking. So, it might be more understandable considering the story was told from a drunk person's point of view. However, it made this really tough, and it made me drink more than I intended too. (A lot of Red Wine so I got a lot of those healthy Oxiantidotes in me from the wine.) A lot of hard work drinking was put into this and it was fun. So, here it is and I hope you enjoy it.

Since it was so long, I broke it up into two parts to make it easier to read.

A First Person’s Point of View at a Bar… (PART I)


A first person’s point of view at a bar…


We arrive at the bar in Josh’s Chevy Blazer. He has Sirius radio and a song I recognize as "Sins of Memphisto" by John Prine is playing. I think to myself that John Prine is probably one of the best singers of all time. I decide to comment on it.

“Man, don't you love this guy? You know who it is?”

“Nah, man. Who is it?”

“John Prine. Probably, one of the best of all time, if you wanna know my opinion.”

“I know who he is dumb ass, now let’s go get drunkie.”

“Well, I guess we didn't get all dressed up for nothing.”

We get out of the car and walk up the stairs. We open the door and the bouncer, Kevin, already knows us, so he acknowledges us, we exchange “What’s ups!” and venture into the bar. I see some friends, but my mouth is dry so I head for the bar. It is not very crowded yet, but it is only 22:00, so things will pick up around 23:00 – 23:30. “Better Man” by Clint Black is playing on the jukebox. Great song. The bar is almost full so I still have to claim a spot.

Some chotch is kind of crowding my space and won’t let me get a good spot at the bar. He is wearing a light blue shirt, yellow pants, and a navy blue blazer, talking to a really attractive girl. His hair is slicked back. I can barely hear what he is saying to the girl because it is loud in the bar, but not really trying to listen. Finally the bartender greets me. He’s fairly short, wearing a hat with a pony-tail hanging out of the back. He hasn’t shaven in at least 5 days.

“Yes Sir?”

“I’ll have a Franziskaner… Hey Josh! What do you want? Hey Shithead! I’m talking to you. What do you want to drink?”

He’s talking to his friend Alice. “Jack and coke… No I’ll have a beer… Nah man, just make it a vodka tonic. Make sure they add a twist. If there is no twist I’m going to punch you.”

“Damn! It’s like playing cards with my brother’s kids.” I say to no one in particular but direct it at the bartender. An underrated line constantly stolen from the movie, “Tombstone” but not used very much, except by certain people, I think to myself. “And a vodka tonic, Mr. Bartender.”

He leaves to pour the drinks. Wow, this guy beside me really is a total chotch. I can’t believe this girl is actually talking to him. I bet he Ivy League schooled it. Definitely from the Northeast. Probably was a part of the crew… rowing team. Probably went to a prep/boarding school. Definitely pops his collar, even though he isn’t tonight. I guess I shouldn’t make stereotypes for people I don’t know. I’ll see what he has to say. I kind of nudge him with the back of my hand. He turns around.

“Did you see the Braves game tonight?” Making it seem that I assume he is a Braves fan. “How about that three run dinger McCann hit in the 8th to take a one run lead? And then Soriano was lights out in the 9th. Big win for Jurrjens. I think he’ll be a hall of famer one day.” He looks annoyed.

“Sorry man, Yankees fan. Don’t watch the Braves much.”

I realize he is a fair-weather fan and doesn’t know anything about the Yankees. “Oh, from your accent I assume you’d be a Red Sock. Where you from?”

“Connecticut.”

“Really? Who’s your favorite Yankee?”

“A-Rod and Jeter. Love those guys. Probably the best 2nd and 3rd basemen in baseball.”
I rest my case. “A-Rod plays short doesn’t he?” I say to throw him for a loop.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I thought Jeter played third.” I say to mess with him.

“Yeah, he does.”

I decide to leave the guy alone. He’s harmless and he’s done nothing wrong to me. I can be negative towards people for no reason. Only because I have generalization about people, and I really do not like fake people, and this dude is fake. I introduce myself. He tells me his name is Josh. I tell him my friend I am with is named Josh. I continue to converse with him because he is from out of town and decide I was mean to him and shouldn’t have been. So I buy him and the girl he is talking to a drink. We chat a little more. I tell him places in town to eat and try. Football gets brought up and he knows a little more about football than I would’ve thought. A Giants fan, of course. I discover he went to Northwestern and we talk about how young the coach is and how awesome he is and will be. I tell him how I enjoyed watching Northwestern when they had Darnell Autry and how cool it was they went to the ’96 Rose Bowl. Josh walks up.

“You are bowling second on Silver Striker. Already got you set up.”

“Cool beans. Nice to meet you Josh. This is my friend Joshua. What a coincidence.” I say to be dorky. They shake hands. Then he starts talking to the guy on the other side of the attractive female he is chatting with. Dude’s wearing blue jeans, a pink sweater, with a light pink collar shirt underneath, and penny loafers. “No way” I think to myself. That guy can’t be serious.

We play Silver Striker. I get last place. During the game, I switch to vodka tonic about the third frame. Don’t know why except that I was thirsty and a vodka tonic seemed refreshing. The wine from earlier is kicking in and I am starting to feel hammered. My mom and I had two and a half bottles of red wine between us, I remember. I had probably one and half and she had one bottle. I drink way too much wine I declare to myself, then out loud. I love me some wine, I also say. “Drinking wine makes you feel drunk and high at the same time. Like a drunk-high.” I bring up in idle conversation during the game. No one even acknowledges I said it.

We finish playing. I get last place and bowled a 127. I cuss myself and dropped an “F” bomb after every roll but four, I estimate. I have to buy the other three guys playing a beer. Oh yeah, that fucker, Shawn, bought us a Jaeger bomb during the game, in which we had to wait over five minutes for him to bring them to us. I hate Jaeger bombs. Why does everyone insist on shots all the time, I hate shots. Jaeger bombs are kind of pussy anyway. I think about Cowboys from the western movies and books taking shots. How did they always knock them back like that? Sometimes, straight out of the bottle. I’d throw up if I took a shot like that. Maybe
they are complete bad asses, or the liquor was weaker, more watered, down back then. A topic I’ve brought up before. Always get varying answers.

“What does everyone want?”

“Let’s take a shot!” Josh yells. The other two guys, Shawn and Stephen agree. Shawn won Silver Striker I remember. I’ll have to hear him brag until we play again about this. I hate shots. I don’t wanna be a pussy, so I order four Kamikazes. Those are weak enough for me, I decide. The shots arrive and I sort of have a loathing-hatred towards everybody that is able to take shots without feeling sick. We all toast the shot. I yell to be funny “To girls with big tits!” Two girls turn and look at me. One of them smiles at me. Eleanor. Wow she is hot. She was a freshman when I was a senior in high school. I then decide to buy everyone a beer to be generous.

I buy everyone a Michelob Light. Shawn claims I drink fancy beer. I explain to him that I’d rather spend five to ten extra dollars and drink good beer, than to be a cheap skate and drink Busch Light for the rest of my life. I decide it is a clever assumption I just made and I will use that more often. I lose myself in thought about beer. The difference in a Bud Light and Busch Light is 25 cents at the bar I realize. The difference in a Franziskaner, a very tasty German beer, and a nasty Busch Light is one dollar. Are people that ignorant that they think they are saving tons and tons of money by drinking crappy, crappy beer? I guess so, I realize.

“Hey moron, you daydreaming, or just staring at the girls?” Josh says to me.

I recollect myself and realize I was staring, even though I was lost in thought. Eleanor is looking really nice tonight. She is surrounded by four other girls. Awesome I tell myself. Wow, all of her friends are good looking. I’m loaded. I think to myself that Eleanor is the coolest girl ever. We hung out a few times in college. I haven't seen her in at least two years. I decide to go talk to her. I side step around one friend. She has her back turned to me and smells really nice. Eleanor turns around, sees me, then let’s out a squeal. We hug.

“Hey Eleanor! Good to see you.”

“Wow, good to see you. When did you get back into town? You are looking good.” I blush.

“About a week ago. I had to go to a friend’s wedding in Charleston last weekend. But I just moved back. Moved in with my Mom for the time being. But not for long I hope. So how are you doing?”

“Great. I’m so glad you are back. Are you here for good?” I hate small talk, but she is so good looking. “Yeah, I hope so. I’m still looking for a job. I have a couple of leads I hope. To be honest I don’t have the first clue. Though I’m thinking about applying for a job to be a CEO. Whatever company needs a CEO I think I’m there man.” She laughs. “I mean, I’ve got the look, I’ve got the walk, I’ve got the car, I’ve got the talk. Who better to be a CEO than me?” Wow, am I plastered. “It’s funny the reactions I get when I tell people I’m applying for a job as a CEO. Some people actually believe me. Well, since that probably won’t happen, I bought three dollars worth of lottery tickets today, too. Cross you fingers.”

“I love talking to you. You are so funny and so cute.” She pats me on the cheek. “Well good to see you. Are you gonna be sticking around tonight? We are having a girl’s night out. But…”

“Can I buy you a drink?!” I interrupt. I’m such an idiot.

“Sure…” she says, almost indignantly.

“What are you having?” She tells me a beer.

For some reason I buy her a cosmopolitan and a Bud Light. She asks if I'm trying to get her drunk. I smile. We talk for a little while longer and she introduces me to her friends. I know two of them from high school. One gives me a disapproving look. “Why” I ask myself, intruding on girl’s night out? Well that is dumb. Women are weird. Eleanor asks if I wanna smoke a cigarette. I decline. They all leave and Eleanor asks if I’ll watch their pocketbooks. Damn I’m stuck. What the hell? Women. Of course I agree and I still smell their perfume as they walk off. I love it that you can’t smoke in bars anymore, keeps your clothes from smelling.

“Big Iron” by Marty Robbins is playing now on the Jukebox. I realize I’ve hardly even noticed the music playing, even though it is really loud. I start to sing along to the song and don’t care if anyone sees me. Wow, I’m a little toasted. I’m all alone and I decide I should’ve gone with the girls to smoke a cigarette. I want one now. Damn! Finally a friend and his girlfriend walk up, Big Bart and Stephanie, I think is her name.

“What are you doing man?”

“Well, I got suckered into watching these girl’s purses. I can’t leave now, can I?
You two want a drink?”

“Those are pocketbooks.” Stephanie corrects me, I think that is her name. Why are chicks such smart asses sometimes? “Whatever” I think. I really don’t remember her name and don’t want to be rude and ask. Stephanie it is.

“Hell No! We are going to buy you a drink. You just moved back. Welcome back. We missed you man.” I decide Big Bart is one of the coolest guys ever, even though he’s not, and I feel really short talking to him because he is huge. He could probably dunk a ten-foot goal I think to myself. He makes me take a shot with him, I don’t know what it is, but it tastes like coffee, then he buys me a vodka tonic. I decide that vodka tonics are awesome, and I wish I would’ve started drinking them a long time ago instead of all that bourbon.

We talk for a while until the girls come back in. Eleanor kisses me on the lips right when she walks up. Wow. I’m feeling kind of good now. She tells me that her girlfriends said she should do it right when they all walked in. They are all giggling. One of them pinches my butt. Then Eleanor takes my hand and carries me away. I look back at Big Bart and he just smiles at me, and points us out to his girlfriend. We go behind the cigarette machine. She tells me she’s always had a crush on me. Then we start making out. This is so cool. Is this really happening. I guess it is. Eleanor is way out of my league. She tastes like cigarettes, but her lipstick is very sweet. I reach behind and squeeze her butt. She pulls me really tight so my chest is against her breast. I get excited.

She stops kissing me and we are both out of breath. She tells me she is so glad to see me and glad that I’ve moved back. I tell her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world and she says, “Awww,” then we kiss again. We stop and she declares she needs a beer. She grabs my hand and leads me back to the bar, but let’s go as soon as we get near everyone. Big Bart announces to everyone, “Look at you! You’ve got lipstick on your lips. Somebody’s been smooching! That is awesome man!” He gives me a high-five. Then he starts a cheer and everyone around starts chanting my name. Then he gets everyone to point at me continuously and chant, “You…You…You!” I blush, but not as bad as Eleanor.

I can tell she is really embarrassed. Then the unthinkable happens and she kisses me in front of everyone and a few people erupt in cheers. Then she pushes me away and slaps me, but not hard, playfully, I think. “What just happened?” I think to myself. Then everyone yells, “Oooooh!” One guy is even jumping up and down. I’m in shock. She grabs me behind the neck and starts massaging it, and tells me she was just making a joke, slapping me. I kind of think it is funny, then I think she is one of the coolest girls I’ve ever met.

What is happening? I’m drunker than Cooter-Brown.