Tag Archives: It says a lot I guess that I’ve already had a tag called blogging under the influence

Shield

Someone asked me today, quite bluntly but I appreciate her directness – she started our conversation with this question, “Are you happy in your marriage?”, whether I get hit on a lot when I travel.

Have you hung out at the hotel bar? Airport lounge? And nobody ever hit on you?

Frequently. All the time. Never.

Let’s assume that I’m totally hit-worthy. I believe the reason why I’m never hit on is because I always seem like such a regular at the bar, and I enjoy talking to old bar tenders very much.

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I’m at the airport now. My waitress told me that I’m waiting for “someone” because she’s not supposed to bring me two drinks at once.

Another reason why I’m never hit on could be that I just took a picture of my drinks, and I laughed out loud at some posts on Facebook.

Alcohol consumption + Crazy friends on Facebook = Preservers of marriage sanctity. Who knew?

By the way, I think I may be playing my role of an uptight, reserved worker bee too well? I don’t understand why some people at work are so confused after seeing the two Vodka Lin. They’re convinced that I was drunk and needed to be reined in. Really, honey? You’ve never met people who behave differently at work and outside of work?

How do I convince them that what they are witnessing is the real me in all its glory?

Ok. Maybe I do get a bit self-grandiose after a couple of drinks… But maybe that’s just me, coming out of my insecure crab shell?

Circles

Scene: The basement of an upscale restaurant in a hip Chicago neighborhood

Cast: Her. And a throne of other women. It would be accurate to add “mostly young and attractive (and white except her and one other woman, though this has nothing to do with anything really…)” Being young adds 20% at least to the overall attractiveness btw. Youth is something the young does not know to appreciate.

Setting: A “women @ company” event aiming to “unite” women in the company. Tonight’s event is for a popular Chicago chef to share with her exclusive audience how she overcame the male-dominant restaurant business.

There have been several emails going out to all the women in the office promoting this event. Come meet your co-workers, listen to someone who’s braved the male-dominant world and made it, be empowered (well, they have never actually used the word “empowered” in any of the communications. It’s like we are so liberated now, and all these “women @ company” events have to be coached in a non-militant, non-aggressive way), and oh yeah, have some cocktails and food while you do all of the above. She was not planning to go because she does not have any friend in the office. She just joined the company this past year and for all her work duties, she works with a different office remotely. For all intent and purposes, the space she occupies may as well be a rental space. Proof? This office location had two holiday parties and she was not invited to either. Sorry.

Somehow she decided that it’s her duty to support this bourgeoning group, “Women @ Company”. It’s simply not nice to poo-poo these events and cry about women not being valued (or valued less) in the company. With the sense of duty and “Oh, how bad can it be?” thought, she walked the 3 blocks.

She was relieved upon entering the room reserved for private parties to see one of her cubicle mates. Great! Someone she knew. She quickly got a vodkacran from the bar tender who listened sympathetically as she recounted how the office holiday party in another city that she went to last week had only a not-open open bar. The bar tender, probably feeling sorry, gave her a heavy pour of Ketel One.

She stood around awkwardly with her cube-mate and a couple of women whom her cube-mate knew. She instinctively sensed that one of the other women would rather not be in this circle that they formed. You just know these things, right? You could tell from the body language. The angling out. The slight turning-away. The “Oh I am so relieved you are here because now I don’t have to be talking to this woman whom I don’t know and have no interest in knowing” expression when someone else showed up. So now the circle was broken into two. Inconspicuously. But not, unfortunately for her, imperceptibly.  Leaving her and her poor cube-mate whom she suspected was cursing her own bad luck, “Wait. I want to be in that other circle. The new one!”

Cube-mate quickly announced, “Well, I have to leave. I have to be home by 6 to relieve my nanny.” Yes, cube-mate is one of the few other women in the office with kids, even though cube-mate is probably almost a decade younger than she is.

With cube-mate gone, she’s left in an awkward position. “No matter. I will go get another drink!” Bar tender was happy to see her friendly face again. “Another one?” “Yes.” It’s amazing how almost all the bars she’s visited she never had to tell the bar tender what she wanted after the first round. She turned around with her new drink, and was faced with one of the most horrifying realizations. She did not have a circle to go back to.

AWKWARD.

 

She went back to the vicinity of the aforementioned new circle, just to test the water. No. Nobody made that slight movement to welcome her. She’s now faced with a tough decision: “What the fuck should I do now?”

Cellphones.

She took out her phone and pretended to check her messages in the midst of women engaging in delightful conversations. “This probably looks really rude. People are going to think that I am being a-social.” Chastised, she put away her phone quickly and braced herself. She turned around, took a deep breath, and slowly made her way to the bar. With a FULL drink.

The few seconds felt like eternity and the short walk felt as if it’d never end. Sorry for the cliche. But it is what it was. Nobody. She did not know anybody. Nobody acknowledged her presence. No circles opened up. She positioned herself by the bar, with a FULL drink, pretending that she’s waiting in line. For what? Her drink was fucking full. Yes, she could have finished her drink quickly so she could get another one. But she’s going to be faced with the same hell with a 3rd drink in her hand. She quickly decided that drinking heavily and fast by yourself in a small, and worse, well-lit room where it’s easily seen that you’re drinking heavily and fast by yourself was probably more pathetic than the situation she was already in. She moved back to the new circle and she forced herself into the circle by physically tresspassing the invisible line that formed the circle.

“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Hi, I am XXX. Nice meeting you.”

Now, this was not her imagination: If people want to include you, they will move slightly to make room. If not, they will simply turn around in order to address you, without moving.

It was made very clear to her.

“Fuck. This is even more awkward than before.” She quickly thought. “Do you know what time the chef will start speaking?”

“Oh. She’s supposed to start at 5:30.”

“Ok. Thanks!”

The women went back to their conversation.

She moved away from the force field and looked at her watch. 5:15. She turned around to survey the sea of circles and felt her eyes getting warm.

She needed to get out of there now.

On her way back to the office, her tears started swarming out of the corners of her eyes. Luckily it’s winter and it’s already pitch dark. The turn of the event caught her off guard. This was one of the selves that she was not prepared to confront.

She resisted looking at the darkened shop windows as she walked by, as her vain self was wont to, afraid that she’d see someone from the past.

“I thought I’ve left you behind many years ago.”

And she’d been proven wrong. So. very. wrong.

Why not?

I sometimes wonder why I have not become an alcoholic.

I like myself better when I am just a little bit drunk. Like now.

The state of knowing that you are drunk, knowing that perhaps you should not have leaned out the car window and shouted at the guy across the street but you could not help it. Because it felt like the right thing to do. When you are simultaneously listening to the angel and the devil sitting on your shoulders: The should and the should not. And you are just buzzed enough that you listen to the devil even though otherwise you would have listened to the angel.

The devil asks the right question:

WHY NOT?

 

The WHY NOT. Yup. That is the one.

That is the question that gets to you when you are just the right amount of drunk, isn’t it?

Perhaps I should not have allowed the kids to run around all over the carnival on their own after dark. Nor should I have allowed them to have unlimited intake of sugar.

Perhaps I should not have jumped up and down and WHOOP! when your very interesting friend suggested that you all go to her boyfriend’s bar in the downtown area of Small Town, USA, now that the carnival is closing.

Perhaps I should not have agreed to bring all the kids to the bar now that it is past 9:30 in the evening.

Perhaps I should not have the first vodka+cranberry since I have had 3 drinks at the carnival already.

Perhaps I should not have allowed the kids to play pool and darts at a bar, complete with local townsfolk, drunk and otherwise.

Perhaps I should not have tried to engage the drunk man at the bar who said more than once that he was going to dance on the bar.

Perhaps I should not have mentioned the song Tiny Dancer to the man when he started talking about his little buddy Joe, who was invisible (but of course), that he took out from his pocket and put on the bar and whose sneakers the man asked your more-than-alarmed girlfriend to hold on to.

Perhaps I should not have found the man amusing. Or agreed with the man that Tiny Joe existed.

Perhaps I should not have my second drink. Or the third.

Or talked to the regulars in the bar. All of them were regulars, except us, of course, the way a bar in Small Town, USA is.

This was a place I would not have walked into if I were sober.

These were the people, the Small Town USA people, I would not have the courage to interact with (hey, stereotypes go both ways) if I were sober.

But why not?

So I did.

 

Never for a moment was I not self-conscious of the strangeness of me being inside the local bar where the real Americans, as Sarah Palin likes to claim those who are her people, hang out. But why not?

 

As I became the responsible adult and told The Husband that we needed to leave and bring the kids home, I found two of the bar patrons sitting on the sidewalk next to our car.

Hey. Is the midget going home now?

One of them, some guy that had a friendly conversation with me about Queen and David Bowie and Freddie Mercury and Under Pressure, pointed to my 8-year-old and joked.

Why not?

Oh yes. They are all midgets and that’s why they have the right to be at the bar at this hour. You know, we do not practice prejudices against midgets here.

His friend who just told me that he’s not had a break from working 16-hour days for over a month and is finally having a day off tomorrow sighed.

Isn’t this place just turning into San Francisco now? Are you telling me that we are becoming like San Francisco now?

I paused because I thought I’d misheard. He continued,

It is becoming more and more like San Francisco. I personally could burn a few buildings down in this town.

At this point I was no longer as drunk as I had thought.

Hey, it is the Fourth of July. We are celebrating freedom and independence! Come on. You said you will have tomorrow off!

The guy took a sip of his beer.

Yeah. I am just going to drink more and more and get saltier and saltier.

His friend raised his eyebrow and chuckled at the word,

Salty?

He took yet another sip and frowned.

Yes. Salty.

By  now it was almost midnight and  The Husband has got into the car with our kids and the other boys we were bringing home for a sleepover. (Why not?) I got into the car. As the car spun around, I leaned out the window and yelled,

Happy Fourth of July! Cheer up!

The man looked up, still grouchy, and yelled back,

Goodbye Sweetheart.

(Yes. Of course. The Husband made a motion to indicate that he was going to throw up upon hearing the word “Sweetheart”)

 

As I am still buzzed and am Blogging Under the Influence. I do not think there is any moral to this story. This is of course not a social commentary since I failed to confront the man. I simply needed to share. That is all.

On the other hand, how drunk could I be if I am 1) typing on a computer, 2) all the time thinking I need to go and clean the bathrooms because my mother-in-law is coming tomorrow and I have to leave home early for a 9 am meeting at work.

Later gator.