The Bartender: Sweater puppets and glasses of Crown
Friday, January 13, 2006
One Cape Girardeau man's New Year's Eve experience tending bar in the hive of privilege
This New Year I didn't have any plans, other than visiting one or two local bars. Low and behold everything changed with just one phone call. I was offered $10 an hour, plus tips, to tend bar at a private party back home (home being Dexter, Mo., native lands of the barbecue).
This party consisted of a healthy amount of wealthy families to cash in on. Everybody has their price, I have mine.
I was a bit uneasy when I arrived, thinking I would have to cater to quite a few snobby people. To my dismay, I was proved wrong. All of those who attended were extremely cordial to me. Hands down, it was the most pleasurable experience bartending ever.
But without the three girls helping me, it would have been a complete nightmare.
I really assumed I would be out of my element, with my pierced and tattooed self working this group of high-prestige people. I still know that I am on the opposite side of the spectrum from them. But during the party I was respected by them, maybe because of my dress shirt and vest. Or maybe because I was responsible for the amount of festivity they were having
I have been notorious for pouring a strong drink, and I did not show any mercy on this evening, especially when I made a whisky drink.
A Crown and water was basically Crown on the rocks, with a splash of water.
This made for content clientele. To my astonishment, I didn't operate the blender for the entire night, even though I sold over a hundred Margaritas. All on the rocks, none frozen.
Shockingly enough, the only conflict of the entire night, was when a women became furious at her husband. Why was she so enraged, you ask?
A young woman, probably 23 or so, was exposing herself in the men's room in true drunken New Year's Eve fashion. I don't know if money was exchanged.
Was this the other mad woman's husband's fault? Absolutely not. This girl just enjoys exhibiting her surgically-enhanced sweater puppets.
Ultimately, I discovered hope in the fact that all the people there weren't any better than the people was standing beside them.
I honestly witnessed people twice my age, groovin' to tunes like Khia's "My Neck, My Back" the dirty version, and many others such as "Get Low" by Lil' Jon and the Eastside Boyz.
When I mean I discovered hope, I mean for me and the rest of the world. If the upper middle class can let loose and forget their stresses, can't we all? I wish everyone a happy 2006.