I’m behind the bar, makin drinks, there’s a band playin, really good, crowd seems into it. The booker comes up, orders a drink. He says, Man, there’s these four obnoxious older people at the front of the stage, yelling things at the band. They’re being very rude, it’s embarrassing. I ask, what kinds of things are they saying? He says, like, how she should talk less in between songs, and play more music.
Old people crack me up sometimes. They go through life, they go through their shit, divorces, kids, jobs, they retire, then they think, I’m gonna say what the hell I want. I don’t give a shit what people think. And then they get in their car, and drive 15 miles under the speed limit.
The lead singer comes up to the bar and says to me, Haven’t been heckled for awhile. I’m sorry about that, I say. What were they sayin? Well, one woman yelled, we don’t want to hear your band. We want to hear you sing acapella.
Ah, old farts. Gotta love em. And wipe their drool off their face, every once in a while.
Wait…I’m 41. Oh shit.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.