I’m at the end of the bar, shootin the shit with the boys, we start talkin about, what would you say to your girlfriend if she found one of those hotel key cards in your pocket? What would be the best lie you could come up with, presuming you were a guilty bastard. This is reality. You’re there, your girlfriend is staring you down, waiting for a Goddamn explanation, with that key card in her hand.
My first buddy goes, Oh that? Yeah, I got that, I was with so-and-so, he was wasted, I was pretty drunk, didn’t want to drive, so we got a hotel room. That’s bullshit, I say. Why didn’t you just take a taxi? Yeah, try again.
My other buddy goes, ok, I was out with all my buddies, they got wasted, I got them a hotel room. And I had one of the keys in my pocket. Nah, I say. That sounds convoluted. She goes, why is this the first time I’ve heard about this? You didn’t tell me about all these guys? Yeah, nope. Busted.
So I go, this will work if you’re a bartender. Oh, that? What? Yeah, I was cleaning up the bar last night, I found it on the ground, put it in my pocket, and forgot about it.
They all agreed that that was pretty good.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.