I’m at the bar, solid crowd, how you would say, we got some drinkers. But I notice this guy, and I’ve just served him one Bud Light, nodding off. At first I think he’s looking at his phone. Perhaps. You know, head down, can’t see if their eyes are totally closed or not. On closer inspection, he is, indeed, falling asleep. And we can’t have that. That’s a big no-no. Cop comes in, sees some guy sleeping at your bar, somebody’s goin to jail, and that somebody is me.
Normally, I’d just shake the guy, buddy, you can’t be sleeping here. Right? But there’s just one eensy weensy problem.
The guy is massive.
He’s gotta weigh like 300 pounds. His arms are literally as big as my torso. Here’s him swatting at a fly, the fly is me, yep, there I go, all the way across the bar.
His buddy orders two drinks. With some kind of insurmountable strength, I say, look, your buddy’s passing out. There is NO WAY I’m serving him a drink. I’ll serve you one, but not him. He looks at his buddy, then back at me. Fine. He says. One Bud Light.
Five minutes later, his buddy awakes. He motions me over. Somehow, I don’t know why, I’m not scared. He says, can I get a beer, please? Real nice. I say, I’m sorry man. You’re passing out on my bar. I can’t serve you. It’s illegal. Are you wasted? I ask. He says, no, not at all. I’m just really tired. I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but he seems perfectly sober to me. I go, are you sure, man? He says, hey, I’m not gonna lie. I’m not perfectly sober, I’ve had a few drinks, but I’ve had a really long day. Could I please buy a beer from you?
Aw shucks. Guy’s a Goddamn teddy bear.
I get him the beer and say, all right, bud. I’ll be watching you. He smiles and says,
I’m sure you will.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.