Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Well, He Looked At Me And I Damn Near Died

I'm not going to the bar this week. I feel like that would be too tragic.

Not as in dying-in-a-ball-of-flame tragic, but rather the circumstance of hanging out at the bar by myself over the week before Christmas. (I feel like 'pathetic' would be the more technically appropriate word to describe the situation; but screw that, I want to use 'tragic' anyway.) What kind of schmuck would do something like that?

*raises hand*

Yeah.

Last year I popped down to Jack's, on the South Side, the week before Christmas. There was quite a crowd for a Wednesday evening, and said crowd was having quite a good time, dancing and making (appropriately enough) merry, etc. I had planned to come down for one of my typical acts of jukebox terrorism, but I wasn't at all prepared for this. The bouncer must have known what I was going to do, as he cautioned me not to mess up the mood as I approached the jukebox. I had no idea what the hell to play, so I put something danceable by Blondie on, finished my beer, and booked it.

That said, anytime from the 26th to the 30th is fair game. We'll see.

No comments: