I said yes please, and got my favourite beer.
Then he said the same thing to the next customer, and he got his favourite beer, which was different to mine.
I said yes please, and got my favourite beer.
Then he said the same thing to the next customer, and he got his favourite beer, which was different to mine.
You know you’ve made it when you walk in and they start making your drink.
When I was a big drinker and sat at my pub a lot, by the time I’d walk in and sit down I’d have a drink waiting in my spot, it felt kind of nice knowing someone thought about me.
Nice, isn’t it? When I was a big drinker, I’d hit my hole-in-the-wall and get a double whiskey and a coke back, no questions asked.
Best part? On on busy Friday or Saturday when there was a monster line at the bar, I could grab a spot, STFU, get my drink.
“HEY! How come that guy got served?!”
“Because he’s not being an ass.”
And, back to the back of the line for the questioner.
Two old ladies running the place. Never knew their names. But god help you if there was a fight starting. Flirting with a girl one night and some guys got to pushing around…
“ALL RIGHT! GET THE FUCK OUT! BAR’S CLOSED!”
She looked at me kinda nervous:
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. They mean it. We gotta go.”
(We didn’t go anywhere, but we split in any case.)