Closing the Bar

It's after 5:30 in the morning. The sky is light and the sun is beginning to rise in Chicago. I just walked into my apartment, am mildly intoxicated, and spent a second night with the bartender.

I have a matinee tomorrow. Tomorrow night is my going-away party. I haven't finished writing about the events of last weekend. So why the hell am I still blogging?

I don't know. But I'm fairly certain that I promised Nico that I'd drunk blog again. And I like keeping promises. So here goes.

I went to a coffee shop tonight to try to attend one last NaNoWriMo Write-In before moving. Sadly, I was the only one in attendance. And around 7:00pm, right as the barista handed me my drink (some sort of tea with ice and milk that the bartender recommended, and it was delicious), my phone rang.

It was Nick, the bartender. He said that he was working at a bar, and that it was boring (4pm to 4am on a Tuesday, and he was the only bartender there). He wanted me to come visit him. He also said that he will be in another state next week, and he had hoped to see me again before I moved.

I ostensibly freaked out and asked for advice (check my twitter page if you don't believe me).

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(See that line? That would be when I fell asleep. Whoops. FAIL! I'll continue where I left off.)

I hemmed and hawed over the decision of whether to go or not. If I went, knowing what I now knew, would that make me guilty in all of this? No, I would only feel weird if we made out or something, and he would be working until 4:00am... And there was no WAY I was going to stay until 4:00am... So it would just be like a goodbye between friends. I'd show up, he'd be working, I'd be there for thirty minutes, get bored, and leave. Completely G-rated. Harmless.

I went home and changed out of the short halter-dress that I'd been wearing all day. I wanted something less... sexy? Less easy access? Less "look at my body"? Something like that. I put on jeans and a brown shirt. Casual. Cute. Not trying too hard. (Men, take note: women spend a lot of time freaking out about what to wear. I'd say it's a universal truth.)

So I eventually went. I got there right around 10:00pm. Again, my intention was to stay for thirty minutes. The bar was mostly empty when I walked in. There were four people sitting at the counter, the shift manager, and Nick. Because it was a Tuesday, Nick was the only bartender there the whole night.

I wished I had brought my camera. He looked really hot behind the bar. But I had only brought what I could fit in the pockets of my jeans.

Nick introduced me to Tony, the shift manager, knowing that I'd need someone to talk to while he was working. Within the first fifteen minutes of talking to Tony, he complimented my eyes, said I smelled great, and called me beautiful.

(Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know how I got this much juice, but I'm overflowing with it right now. Angela got her groove back. *snap, snap*)

Nick started looking at a menu and said he was ordering himself some food at the bar. He asked if I was hungry. I said I was, but not to worry about getting me anything. After all, I was planning to leave soon. But after some discussion, he somehow changed my mind, and I put in an order. That, my friends, was unplanned decision #1.

At one point a great song started playing, and, as I am wont to do, I began dancing. A regular (an old man who wastes his pension check at the bar) started dancing with me. Somehow he managed to turn out his pockets and drop everything he was carrying in the process (which seemed to be a bunch of meaningless papers and scraps of cardboard... no idea why). He then insisted on buying me a drink.

At first, I said no, as Nick had been giving me free cherry cokes since I'd walked in the door (by the way, it is SO NICE to know a bartender... that man comped me on pretty much everything). But the old man insisted.

I'm pretty sure that's the first time a stranger has ever bought me anything in a bar. (Yeah, juice!) I mean, a random guy who worked at a clothing store gave me his employee discount once because he thought I was cute, but this is different somehow. A drink from a stranger? That's the kind of stuff that happens in movies. It was awesome.

So since old man was buying, I decided to switch to something alcoholic. That was unplanned decision #2. Because once I go into real drinks, I don't generally go back to my cherry cokes (no matter how fun it is attempting to tie the cherry stems into knots with my tongue...).

The food came, and it was actually pretty good. Nick insisted on paying for mine, which was unexpected, but nice.

At one point, Tony went out to smoke (yay for the Chicago indoor smoking ban! I can leave bars without smelling like an ashtray!), and Nick took his place right next to me (the bar was still empty, so it didn't matter). And I asked one of the questions that I'd been dying to ask...

Angela: So, exactly how Sicilian are you?
Nick: I don't understand the question.
Angela: You told me you were Sicilian.
Nick: I am. One hundred percent.
Angela: Yeah, right.
Nick: I'm serious!
Angela: So why did Lucas tell me you were Puerto Rican?
Nick: Lucas? Who is Lucas?
Angela: From the kitchen staff.
Nick: Oh God, no. That guy? He's lying to you.
Angela: He called you Boricua.
Nick: He likes to mess with me. Why would you believe him?
Angela: Well, you are fluent in Spanish...
Nick: It happens.

With that, he hopped back behind the bar to serve someone.

When Tony came back from his smoke, I decided to fact check (because clearly, I am Perry Mason).

Angela: Hey, what nationality is Nick?
Tony: He's Italian.
Angela: Seriously?
Tony: Yeah. Sicilian, I think. Why?
Angela: Someone told me he was Puerto Rican.
Tony: No, he's not. But he, um... His... His babies' mother. She is. Puerto Rican. I think.

Tony then looked at me awkwardly as though he'd let some sort of secret slide. I just nodded, not at all jarred by the mention of Nick having a baby mama. I didn't really feel the need to ask any more about her past that. Confirmation that she existed was enough for me.

Tony then started complimenting my "big brown eyes", and we had a whole discussion on astrology. Tony was the first person who has EVER in my ENTIRE LIFE been able to guess that I'm on the Libra/Scorpio cusp. Mind you, I did tell him I was on a cusp, but he nailed it on his first try. Something about me having sex appeal, but not being as overtly sexual as an Aries led him to think I was a Scorpio? I don't know. I generally don't believe in that stuff, but there are definitely some things about me that my sign hits perfectly.

Not long after that, a group of males came into the bar, and Nick was rushing around getting their drinks (many of which appeared to be water... who goes to a bar and orders water? Even I'M not that lame. I at least get a sodapop). I started playing with my cell phone, when one of them said, "So are you actually waiting for someone, or are you just faking it?" I responded by pointing at Nick, but the guy was persistent. He kept trying to start up a conversation with me. He smelled like some kind of smoke (pot? I'm not sure what pot smells like, but I think it may have been pot), and was acting high.

Nick gestured for me to move to the other end of the counter, so I did. Once there, he started in on a whole diatribe about how he thought the guy was being rude to me, and that he wanted to get me away from him. He then said something about not wanting to get in a fight with them because they were paying customers (well, some of them), but he felt like he needed to get me out of the situation. He then said it had nothing to do with jealousy, and that he would've been watching out for any girl around guys like that, even if he didn't know her.

(I don't know why I included that story, but I felt the need to.)

The night wore on. Nick kept putting drinks in front of me, and I kept drinking them. I kept insisting that I was about to go home. And I believed it every time I said it. But I just stayed...

Nick was too busy to talk at most points. I spent a decent amount of time watching Family Guy with the subtitles on and trying to guess what the lines were going to be before they were posted on the screen (note: I'm a HUGE dork). But strangely, I wasn't all that annoyed by it. Every so often, he'd look at me from across the bar, smile, and wink. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but it made me feel a little giggly whenever he did it. Warm and fuzzy on the inside. That's part of the reason I didn't leave: I wanted to hang around to see if he'd wink at me again.

At one point, a chick said she recognized me from the bar where she works (which is coincidentally the site of my going-away party tonight, which I hope you can attend). She bought me a shot. I don't know what the hell Nick made me, but it had the consistency of a half-melted sno-cone and was delicious.

I started talking to a guy who was apparently a cop at one point. He bought me a shot. (Are you keeping track? That's THREE strangers who bought me drinks... I was on FIRE last night.) And then he and I were playing games on this video-poker machine that were NOT card games. Like "spot the differences between the pictures" and "find the hidden words" and whatnot. Considering the fact that I was not sober, I did pretty well.

The manager came into the bar as it was closing. He said he remembered me from last week, although I didn't remember him. He then told me I had the cutest nose he'd ever seen. I don't think my nose has ever been complimented before. I wasn't entirely sure how to handle that one...

Next thing I knew, the only people left in the bar were Nick, Tony, the manager, and I. I remember yelling across the counter, "Nick! Why the hell am I still here?"

Tony kept saying how cool of a girl I am. And that bartenders have all the luck. When he said, "It's sad that you're leaving so soon," I responded with, "I think the fact that I'm leaving is half my appeal." Nick turned to me and smiled flirtatiously.

It's weird to see a bar after it's closed and all the lights are on. It starts to look like any other workplace. More like a room than a bar. So insubstantial. It reminded me of when I worked at a customer service desk at a mall. Getting there before anyone else, or leaving after them, it gains a whole new atmosphere. Like a big empty fortress. And not really a fun or interesting place at all. Just a place where people work.

I stayed until they finished closing up (which was close to 4:45am, if I remember correctly).

Nick drove me home. We talked briefly. I gave him a head rub. Somehow we ended up in the backseat making out (something I've never actually done before... probably because I didn't have my first kiss until college), but my memory is fuzzy on the "why". He tried his darnedest to be invited up to my apartment (because of how awkward the car was), but I solidly refused. He asked if I wanted to go back to his apartment, but I said no because of the matinee (and because he said he had to get up at 7:30am anyway...). But he said he's going to try to rearrange his schedule on Thursday so we can see each other again.

Niiiiice. ;)

What? I'm 23. I'm leaving. I'm having fun. Don't judge me.


May you have reasons to keep hanging around.

~A~


P.S. I wanted to make the title a "Starry Night" pun using "Bar-y Night" instead, but it looked weird. And "Barry Night" made it look like I was dating someone named Barry... Yeah. Oh well.