Double Flee A

Wednesday I went to a bar, where I took the following notes:

The vietnam vet is a rare species these days. Detritus of our war culture, a sighting of this elusive beast can occur around four p.m. at your semi-local outskirts drinking establishment. A mullet here, a missing leg there, and every once in a while, the word you came to hear. "Veet-nam". Oh, yes. Like music to mine ears, brave one. I recommend the "american sports cafe" for this manhunt. While you're baffled by the ambiance of mass-marketing, a waitress who looks like she shouldn't look that old for a few years yet will pour you all the beer you can drink. For five dollars. It's truly the best "good time for people who hate to have a good time" I can imagine, and I actually got to do it. So can you, for on Wednesdays from four to seven, all the beer and all the pizza you can consume, is five bucks.

Not like every other bar, this place, though. The lesbians have discovered the beauty in ladies night, and the crowding in that goes on ladies night has created a spillover into the other nights. They start to show up about six-thirty. The filthy mullet co-opters. Is nothing sacred? Be there for the great cultural awkwardness! It's the only great thing happening, so as the light fades outside and in your cavity of a brain, slam a couple of cheap tap beers back when no one's looking, just for you, and think about the awful emptiness the world is made of, and that like being saved, once you realize how bad it all is, no amount of drinking can make it go away and get good again. Not that a man can't try! Cheers! At the american sports cafe. Where they never met a bad haircut they didn't like.

posted by dale @ 12:30 AM