I Love Hanging Out at the Bar

"Pennsylvania guys hate us. You know why? Because we have nice hair and play volleyball."
-Some random guy from Cali who bought me a Jaegerbomb

So I finally made it out to Jack Cassidy's, Pottstown's newest bar. Some guy I used to work with is a part owner/bartender there and it's relatively near my house. Plus Jimmy* and Joey*, two guys I currently work with were there working the door and helping to clean up. It's a wonderful little room. There's a big-ass oval bar, a small room of tables, darts, shuffleboard, the kitchen is open late. If I were internet/html savvy, I would provide a link. But, I'm not. Just google it and find it yourself.

I arrived at about 11:15 pm because I pretty much slept all day and woke up at 5:30 and the family had an outing of errands to run, dinner to eat. It was a little slow for that time on a Saturday night, despite the fact there was supposed to be an influx of drinkers attending some volleyball tournament that was billed as "The Third Biggest Volleyball Tournament on the East Coast." Whatever. The crowd consisted of your run-of-the-mill twenty something local people out getting hammered, with an occasional splash of grizzled psuedo-bikers and a token long-haired, old random drunk guy who was both everybody's and no one's friend at the same time.

About halfway into my time there, I decided that the MegaTouch machine was hungry and I had to feed it. In the middle of a ferocious game of Tai Play, my bottle of Miller Lite was replaced with a full, cold one and then a rocks glass almost full of some mysterious dark brown liquid appeared next to it. "No!" I said, "I was going to wait until I was ready to leave to do that!" But Carl,* the bartender would have none of that. I had moved on to trivia and kept eyeing the glass with suspicion. It seemed like an obnoxiously large shot of Jaeger for a girl who was trying to "be good" and had to solemnly swear to her husband before leaving the house that she would not later that night wind up in Atlantic City. Or Chester. Or even at someone's house for a middle-of-the-night poker game. I picked the glass up and realized there was obviously a bit of Red Bull in there, the color was a little light. So I downed it. Yeah, "a bit" of Red Bull was in there, but it was mostly Jaeger.

I decided that I should be going soon and was content to mosey up to another part of the bar near the door to pay my tab and finish my beer. When Carl* came around, he didn't even give me a chance to ask for my check, he just put another fresh bottle of beer in front of me. Fucker! I hate/love this guy! So I'm sitting there reading trivia cards by myself and trying to swill down my beer. I managed to get a check and pay my tab when alas, some random drunk guy to my left starts talking to me. Now, I have long, somewhat sordid history of talking to drunk people in bars. It's stupid. I just don't want to be mean and blow people off. I don't have that in me.

So Timmy* there says to me, "You're drinking Miller Lite, huh? I fucking hate Miller Lite!" And I'm like, "Yeah, well, I'm from Milwaukee so I figure it's my duty. What are you drinking?" He's drinking Coors Light so I tell him that I fucking hate Coors Light and is he from Colorado? No? Then what's his excuse? Ha Ha, now we're the best of friends. He asks me what brought me to Pottstown and I told him, "This bar." He starts laughing hysterically and I'm thinking, What?! Why's that so funny? Then I realize that he thinks that I live in Milwaukee and I came all the way from Wisconsin to hang out at Jack Cassidy's in Pottstown, PA. Not that I wouldn't, mind you. It's a terrific little bar. But there had been no proper segue in the conversation. So I had to explain to him that I was BORN in Wisconsin but moved to Pennsylvania when I was five, etcetera etcetera etcetera.
He asked to buy me a beer but I declined. After talking to him for a few more minutes I gave in and let him buy me a beer. I was a little hesitant because he only had five 1's and a few quarters on the bar. I'm thinking that I hope I'm not taking away from Carl's tip money for this!

Then some guy on my right who had come up to the bar to order a bunch of Coronas and Jaegerbombs says, pretty much rhetorically, "Am I in Pottstown?" I'm a big fan of answering rhetorical questions so I look over and say, "Yes. You're in Pottstown. Pottstown Pennsylvania." He looks at me like I'm ... like I'm some whacked-out nut job who feels the need to answer rhetorical questions, and says "okay" before turning around and taking his Coronas back to his buddies. About 90 seconds later this guy is jabbing me in the back asking me if there's any other happenin' place to go and hang out. I look at the clock and it's 1:48. "Uuuhhhh, no man, unless you can find an after-hours bar. I don't know of any around here, there's one near King of Prussia." I might as well have had a foot growing out of my forehead the way he looked at me. "Bars close at two. You're not from around here are you? "
"No" he said. "I'm from California. Do you like Jaegerbombs?"
"Oh I love them!"
"Do you want one?"
"No thanks, I really shouldn't. I have to drive."
"Ok. You have really nice hair."
"Okay. Have fun! Bye."

I turn back around to talk to Timmy again. He's griping that he's completely disgusted with his wife but he loves her. And she's completely disgusted with him and it's just all so fucked up. When he was in high school he was a great athlete and now he's old and fat. But I'm so cute and am I really 37 because he thought I was 25. Not that he would talk to a 25 year old in bar because he's not a pervert.

I really should get out of here. I have to pee again.
"Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room."
On my way back I run into Mr. Volleyball Player from California. He's about to do the Jaegerbomb shots with his friends and when he sees me he rips one out of this guy's hand and gives it to me. "Drink it!" I protested thinking it totally rude to take a shot out of someone's hand to hand it over to some blonde bimbo such as myself. But the other guy insisted he didn't want it anyway. So I figured, WTF? Chug! Now, ordinarily in this situation I would feel obliged to talk to the person who gave me a shot of booze. But I actually felt like I would just blow them off. Only they were standing between me and my stool at the bar, so I decided to stick around for a chat.

So we talked for a few minutes about Jaegermeister.
And volleyball. (Apparently these guys were from all over and they just come together for the tournament, they don't necessarily know each other ahead of time).
And Hair. (They really liked my hair and kept touching it. Eewww. People touching my hair skeeves me out most of the time only this time I felt bad for them because I haven't washed it for few days). The one guy used to really like his hair but now there's so much grey in it and he doesn't want to color it. That's when the first guy leans into me and offered the gem of the quote with which I began this post. Classic.

One of their friends spilled her Corona so I grabbed a rag from the bar to sop it up, That became an escape and I found my way back over to Timmy. He kept opening his enormous wallet and seemed to be hesitant as to what to leave for tip. He only had a single and a few quarters on the bar (remember when he bought my last beer)? I told him to just take out one of the 20's and throw that up for tip. I have no idea how much he spent there. But I figured at least a twenty would suffice. The Jackass took out two singles and put them on the bar. Fucker!

I went to the bathroom one final time and then on my way back started to clean up all the empty glassware and bottles. I only grabbed a few but realized that if I stayed any longer, it would probably entail more beverages that I would consume so I choose to just leave. I went the long way around the bar though, to avoid the volleyball players, of course.


* Some names have been changed to protect the innocent (or guilty, as the case may sometimes be).