The Unaccredited Wingman
Went to the bar last night. Not too crowded, but the bar itself was pretty full. When I go out, I just want a spot at the bar, not necessarily a seat, just a place to put my drink. There were two men to my left, and a woman next to them. Two more women joined her, so the man to my left asked if I was using the seat I stood behind. I said, no, just needed the spot on the bar, so I gave it up. The two men moved one seat over, so one of the woman could sit down. I heard the woman thank the one man for the seat.
Look at me, the unaccredited Wingman.
I don’t think it helped, because a man joined the woman’s group and, while I was there, I didn’t see any of the woman talk to these two guys.
Perhaps, the reason for that was, they over heard the same conversation I did.
It was like listening to two forty-something frat boys trying to one up each other.
This was the beginning of their conversation, what I heard, and what I imagined (based on their attitudes) what would have followed:
Man 1: “I’m been drinking, getting served in bars, since I was sixteen years old.”
Man 2: “That’s nothing, I would go to my high school classes drunk, and sleep in the back of the room.”
Man 1: “Really, I started drinking and smoking cigarettes when I was eleven.”
Man 2: “Ha, I would get drunk, steal my father’s car, and go for joy rides when I was eight-years-old. Could barely see over the dashboard.”
Man 1: “So, I used to do shots with my Kindergarten teacher, which made nap time that much more important.”
Man 2: “Listen, I was so drunk at my baptism, I was happy when the priest poured water on me to clear my head.”
And finally...
Man 1: “Dude, that’s nothing. When my mom was pregnant with me, I would sneak out of her womb at night, drink my dad’s whiskey, then sneak back inside to sleep it off...”
