The Last Drunk---------------In the chat, then out of it...then really out of it, drinking beer at Dollies. Mike's the manager and we are talking------then he's cutting up with a couple of the girls as he oversees the bar. Alabama who is now taking superlative pictures like a condemned criminal on her last night in this world is enjoying her last night of drinking. Today she undergoes a program of enforced sobriety. She has a DUI and has been ordered by the court to undergo ongoing drug and alcohol testing. Failure means being locked up in a three month rehab center. The big question is how will she stand up to it. Thankfully we are talking again.
Still don't know why we stopped and she probably doesn't either. But last night is the last drunk together. I am buying her drinks---her usual, Cuervo. And I'm having bottle after bottle of Budweiser, a pile of them stacking up on my little table in the alcove where my laptop stays turned on to this chat. Most of the time I'm not there, losing myself at the bar.
Dina, the raven haired bartender, stunning as always is my first target. I tell her I love her and that she's the only reason I came in. But no one gets the better of Dina in verbal repartee-----it is usually a draw between us. Ex dancer from PT's Dina was probably the best of the breed.
Her eyes miss nothing. And I go on...telling her how much she means to me. The bar listens, even Mike, the manager. But he's as bad as I am. There is a cluster of us at the end of the bar as the Lost Angels chat continues...most of the time without me. Much of the time I am drinking with Alabama. I can't remember what we said and it is getting to the point of who cares.
The night pummels on with no thought of the next day. I was going to head out to Miss Kittys up the street in Washington Park where Audrie is working or at least I think she is working. But they close at 12 and Dollies is open till 1:30 on Sunday nights. I tell Alabama...."Watch this," and go over to Samantha, a pretty brunette. "Samantha, you want me," I tell her." At first she laughs, telling me---"Yeah...sure I want you, Jack." But I don't let up. "Samantha, you always wanted a piece of me. Face it. You want my body and just can't stop looking at me." I can't remember the rest. But Samantha disappears, probably into the dressing room, flustered. Now Alabama joins me, cutting up with me, both of us loudly telling the bar that Samantha wants me." I never make Kittys, closing Dollies instead and I hardly ever make it into the chat.
Now...a time for seriousness. The fields beckon and I am home now...the weather turning sour, working against me. It is replant time although shower activity is predicted tomorrow which might bail me out. But there is to be no bailout and I must quickly get used to that. Time to switch gears...the fun and games are over---FOR NOW.
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