The following stories told in the first person were recorded on a cassette tape recorder on the evening of February 11th, 2015 in a local bar. The speaker was a man of medium build, sitting alone, telling these tales to whomever happened to be nearest. The author received permission from both the speaker and the establishment’s owner to record these sagas. The identity of the speaker has never been revealed nor authenticated, and inquiries into such a matter remain inconsequential. As such, they will not be made here.
You always get the best seats at the bar during the day. And what most people don’t know, young lady, is that bars serve the best breakfast. True bar owners open early in the day for the old timers like myself that have been out all night drinking and wake up hungover looking for a friendly face to serve us eggs and bacon.
You can’t just walk into a Denny’s or IHOP when you are my age, alone, and reaking of liquor and cigarettes. People look at you funny, hide their kids, move to a table further away. Not only does that make me feel bad about myself, but it makes me feel bad for them. So I just rather go somewhere else where everybody is wrestling the aftermath of the night before.
And of course, they serve drinks all day here. I can get a screwdriver and three shots of Wild Turkey here, and oh my, young lady, there is no better cure for the hangover blues like a breakfast of eggs and bacon and Wild Turkey chasers.
Don’t you go ordering that though, miss. That is only for sad and lonely old men who have given up on themselves. You’ve got a lot to live for young lady, I’m sure of it. Even though I don’t know much about you, I can see from the way you dress and the way you carry yourself that you are successful, and even if you aren’t as successful as you want to be, you are going to be that successful one day no matter what. Anyways, I walk in here, usually around 11 or 12, depending on when my hangover gets so bad that I can’t stay in bed any longer.
I hit the bathroom right away, as I’m sure you know that you’ve always got to pee immediately after you get up. After I’ve relieved myself, pardon my french ma’am, I wobble over to the sink and splash some water in my face. Then I look in the mirror, and see how disgusted I am with the man looking back at me this time.
And I’m pretty disgusted every time, let me tell you. Anyways, after that I will walk out to the bar, and the owner will come by, set a tall bottle of water next to me, along with some orange juice and Absolut, and three shots of Wild Turkey, as I told you before. I’ll chug the bottle of water in a vain attempt to combat the pounding headache and gruesome body aches that I’m experiencing.
That always does nothing, but it does feel good to think that it might. So I keep doing it. Then, with reluctance I turn to the screwdriver, and I chug that as well. That alleviates some of the body aches, but I’m still in a lot of discomfort. I know that the alcohol just makes everything worse, but it does make me feel better in the short term, and isn’t that what we are all after?
Feeling better right now?