More Politics in a Sports Bar

Those of you who have been following my a bit more frequent recent forays into a neighborhood sports bar must remember Jenny, the waitress, with whom I have become somewhat friendly.

This visit was not really pre-planned. I just happened to be driving by around dinnertime. Was alone, but not lonely and decided to drop in again. It was Saturday evening and the March madness was in full swing. The many television monitors standing and hanging all over the place displayed basketball and nothing but basketball. The baseball season was supposed to start in a day, or two, so for now there was just basketball.

The place was packed. Couples, singles, and groups – all seemingly trying to out-shout each other. There was no way anyone could possibly hear the TV commentators. The bar was divided roughly in half. The left side, as you enter was for smokers and the right for the rest. At first sight the smoking half seemed more packed, but I did see an empty booth and had the hostess (one that I haven’t seen before) sit me there.

Before I had the chance to even start rolling my first cigarette, Jenny appeared with a large mug of beer. “Hi!” she said. “Hello! Is that for me?” I asked. “Yup! Sam Adams, right?” she confirmed. “Thanks. Just what I needed” I responded. “Actually, we are pretty busy right now, but I haven’t had a break in hours, so in a few minutes I’m going to join you again. I that OK?” she said. “Be my guest, but could you get me an Angus steak and mushroom burger first. I am starved” I requested. “Well done, like always” she asked. “You bet” I said.

It was hard not to admire Jenny’s tightly fitting jeans as she was walking to place the order. Especially in view of the many flabby, overweight people guzzling their beers and making noise all around me. Took a gulp of the Sam Adams. God! I was thirsty! Took another, smaller sip, placed a pinch of the Drum tobacco between the rollers of my cigarette machine, rolled it inwards, placed a gummed cigarette paper between the rollers and rolled it in, until just the edge remained visible, then gave it a slow, careful lick all the way across, rolled the paper all the way in, opened the machine and took out an almost perfect cigarette. A few strands of tobacco protruded from each end. A pair of scissors would have been nice to trim them, but I didn’t have those with me. No problem. Plucked the few strands from one end, put that in my mouth and lit the other with my brass Zippo. Very nice, as usual. So much better that any of the ready-made smokes, with the added chemicals and crap.

Just then Jenny sidled up across the booth, with her own mug of beer and a pack of Marlboro Lights. Looked at me and asked for one of my do it yourself specials. I rolled her one, as she intently watched my fingers do their magic. I handed it over and lit it for her with my Zippo. “Ah! That’s what I call a real smoke” she sighed. “Have you heard about what Carville said about Richardson’s endorsement of Obama?” I asked. “Sure did. What a dink!” said Jenny. What Hillary Clinton’s adviser in effect said, after the New Mexico Governor endorsed Barack Obama was that backing Obama during Holy Week was “appropriate” and “ironic” because it was like Judas selling out Jesus. “That jerk seems to put more importance on his own job and loyalties, than on the overall good of the country,” added Jenny. “I agree,” I said. “Never liked Carville and this is just another reason to hate that weirdo,” I added. “He always looked like ET to me. I was no great supporter of Bill Clinton and Carville always seemed like a creep,” said Jenny. “Of course, Clinton now, in hindsight appears almost like a saint, compared to Bush and his clique” I commented.

“Oops! Time to get your burger” said Jenny and raced towards the kitchen. I looked around. No major changes, basketball on TV, lots of noisy people all around.

Jenny was back with a towering burger, with lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms and onions sticking out on both sides and a big pile of home fries and a pickle wedge on the side. I added some Ball Park Mustard and a splash of John Kerry wife’s ketchup, picked it up carefully, so the contents would not slide out all over me and took a bite. “Good! Man, was I starving!” I said. “I wouldn’t bring you just any crap to eat, honey” smiled Jenny. I smiled back, picking at the home fries and crunching on a pickle. “Could you make me another one of those?” asked Jenny. “Sure” I said, sliding the plate off to the side and grabbing the tobacco pouch and all the other implements. “Hey! You’re getting better at this” she smiled, as I handed over the cigarette, followed by the flaming Zippo. Went back to my plate, wolfing down the juicy combination of (probably) antibiotic and hormone-laden beef, from cows fed on industrial strength, chemical feeds, instead of good, old grass and fries, fried in some unknown grease. At least the beer was probably more, or less natural, I hoped. Jenny watched me eat, dragging on the cigarette and drinking from her mug. I looked and smiled. She had dark blue eyes, with slight laugh marks on the outside, shapely, even mouth, good cheekbones. Overall, I admitted to myself, a very enticing sight. “What time are you getting off tonight?” I asked. “Let’s see…in about two hours. Wanna stay around?” Sure, if you keep me supplied with beer, I’ll stick around”. “OK honey, sounds like a plan” said Jenny.

Once again, I watched her well-filled jeans walk away, thinking that despite Carville, life was good.

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Filed under: General • Just Stupid • U.S. Politics • U.S. Presidential Elections

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