“…and then I sent my exboyfriend $10?” I shake my head in confusion, “and then I labeled the transaction…” I inhale for a laugh, “knick knack paddiwack, GET THE DOG A BONE?”
The bartender’s head flew back as she let a howl of laughter fill the air. The couple next to me, in their 40’s, turned directly toward me: the still drunk 29-year-old, balancing her ass and both feet on a single barstool; at the bar alone on a Saturday morning, after ubering back to the bar to pick up her car from the night before.
“Honey,” the husband leaned into his wife’s ear, “give that girl our number.”
The bartender cackled.
One Mockmosa turned into 3, turned into shots, turned into making friends with every single person that walked through the bar door. Three girls just out of a Saturday morning Zumba class were at the end of the bar, spinning around the empty wooden bar floor, and occasionally tapping on the drums that hadn’t been disassembled yet from the night before. A birthday party, waiting on their party bus, flooded the bar for some time, and disappeared shortly after. The couple next to me had another couple friends show up, and after a few hours it had been only the 6 of us. The bar door under the roof of the porch was wide open, and the rain outside was pouring down. The clacking of pool balls, howls of laughter, and beer bottles smacking the wooden bar filled the air between the country songs that were turned up too loud. Kicking my legs under my barstool, I laughed to myself, ‘how is everything is so much fucking fun, all the fucking time.’
“Hey Ana,” the husband from the first couple called out to the bartender out of sight, around the corner. “Will you close us out?”
Then he turned to me. “What have you got going on today?” I shrugged, and threw my arms out, “this mostly.”
He laughed, as he reached out for his wife who had just taken a shot in pool. “We’re heading out. We’re gonna hit up a friend’s birthday barbecue in Elk Grove. Do you wanna come with us?”
Without hesitation, I finished my beer: “Yup!”
Wild Little Hare 