Tex

I’m working the hotel bar, it’s around 6, older man with plastic white cowboy hat, white suit coat, and blue tie comes in, sits down.  He’s got a drink already from the free bar, and a large to-go carton, with God knows what in it.  He sits down at the end of the bar, and gruffly says, “What’s the football game on now?”  I say, “Clemson.”  He says, “Can you turn up the volume?”  I say, “Sure.”

I turn up the volume, go back to being bored.  When the free bar is open from 5:30-7:30, nobody is drinking at my bar, as you can imagine.  So it can get really slow.  

I spend my time observing this odd gentleman.

He gets on his flip-phone, starts having a lonnnng conversation.  I hear bits and pieces.  He talks a lot about the St. James Bible.  “Yes, you need to look it up in the St. James Bible!”  He’s got a glasses case in front of him, that says, “Johnny Cash” in a Sharpie scrawl.  Why it says Johnny Cash, I can only guess.

After about 45 minutes on the phone, he gets up, leaves for the bathroom.  

My manager comes out of nowhere.  “Just a heads up…there will be two cops coming in soon to have a conversation with Tex.  I guess he was bothering some of the guests, and they complained.  They checked on him, and I guess he has a bunch of warrants out for his arrest.”

Nice!  Things just got interesting.

After a couple minutes, I see the two cops roll in.  One of them is Asian, one is a white guy.  They look official.  They got the cop swagger.

Tex walks back a minute later, unaware of what’s about to go down.

Asian cop says, “Hey, sir, can we have a word?”

He stops, stands at the host stand, confidently.  He looks about 70, with obviously colored dark black hair.  This guy is a character.

I can’t hear what the cops say, but Tex starts going into a huge monologue.  I hear, “I’ve got 50 dollars in my wallet RIGHT NOW.  I was supposed to get a discount from my friend Carl.”

So…not actually a guest at the hotel.  Interesting.  Snuck in for the free drinks and food.  Bold.

I look over at where he was sitting.  He’s got a bunch of crap there.  His white plastic hat sits there lonely.

White cop, who’s been holding back, approaches Tex, says, “Could I see your I.D.?”

Tex fishes it out of his thick, warn wallet, hands it to him.

Asian cops says, “So…are you living here now?”

He takes a long pause, then says, “Yeah.  I am now!”

White cop comes back with I.D., says politely, “Do you mind if we walk you to the front?”

Tex says, “Yeah.  I just need to get my stuff.”

He walks back to the bar, says to me, “You mind if I leave some of this here?”

I say, knowing the inside scoop, “You should probably take it with you.”

He grabs his stuff, his plastic cowboy hat, his ragged bag, walks out, leaving the to-go container behind.

It’s quiet for a moment, everybody’s gone, I grab the to-go container, look in.  It’s a disgusting smorgasbord of finger foods, and appetizers.  But it looks like he shook the whole thing, so it looks like something you’d feed to a pig.

I toss the thing, the guy’s not coming back.  I resume my position at the bar, glance up to the TV, vaguely interested in the score of the game.

-Clint

 

1 white-hat-new

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