I was pissed! It was supposed to have been a "date night" but it didn't happen. I was looking forward to a night of hot sex with my wife but she had some kind of "woman's problem" and sex just wasn't in the cards. She felt really bad but she just couldn't get her head in the right place. Not even a hand job. It looked I was going to end up asking Rosie Palm and her five little friends for help.
"I'm going out for a ride," I told my wife, trying to hold back my frustration. "I'll be back in a little while. It wasn't unusual for me to get in the car and go for a short ride when I needed to clear my head. I drove in silence, not really paying attention to where I was going. A half-hour passed when I found myself on a road that I'd never traveled on before. The road was fairly dark but ahead there were some bright lights set back from the road. As I approached, I saw that it was a roadside bar and the lights were from the glow of neon beer signs. I might as well stop and have a drink, I thought.
As I walked in, I scanned the room. There were only a few people in the place. It was dark but cozily lit. It actually had quite a warm feeling to it. I felt that all eyes were on me. It was like walking into an Old West saloon. I was the stranger in town. There was a long bar with several empty stools. I sat down on a stool as the barkeep approached me.
"How're you tonight?" asked the comely barmaid, a question that, if answered, required only the simplest response.
"OK," I replied, although my mind wanted to tell her how annoyed I was about the disappointing turn of events with my wife.
"What'll you have?" she asked, placing a coaster and a dish of salted nuts in front of me. Ah, that dish of nuts! Whoever thought of a bowl of salted snacks on a bar was an evil genius. Some nuts, a drink, some more nuts, another drink!
"Do you have Jameson Irish whiskey?"
"Sure! How do you take it?!
"Neat, with an ice water on the side, please."
It's interesting to see how each bartender presents a drink. Neat means "from the bottle to the glass" without any accoutrement: no ice, no water, and no twist of lemon. Sometimes, I'll get a shot glass that's about ¾ full. This night, however, I was pleasantly surprised. There on the coaster was placed a rocks glass with easily two fingers of amber liquid. A tall glass of ice water was beside it. The bartender had made a friend and earned a generous gratuity.
"Here's to you, my friend," I said as I lifted my glass towards the barkeep, who smiled broadly. She knew how to pour a drink and for that she was to be commended. I took a second long look at her. She wasn't unattractive. Probably in her early 40's, she was a brassy blonde with a good set of boobs that more than filled the white man-tailored shirt she was wearing. In fact, she had at least one button more than necessary open which allowed a nice view of some substantial cleavage. She was definitely fuckable.
My usual style is to be short and sweet. I like to toss my drink down and follow it with a swallow of ice water and do the mixing in my stomach. For the most part I was in it for the buzz and the sooner the better. However, I was in no hurry to get home. I found myself very comfortable in the womb-like atmosphere of this small friendly roadside tavern. I sipped my Jameson, relishing each swallow. As I savored my drink, I noticed that there was music playing. It was at a comfortable listening level: enough to be appreciated but not so loud that it was intrusive. I don't know who selected the music but it was just the kind I like. Music from that wonderful decade, the hippy-dippy 70's, CSN, James Taylor, some Southern rock, it was all good.
The firewater was beginning to get a grip on me. Ah, the feeling of warmth and mild euphoria that alcohol can give you. Although the liquor was making me feel good, I was still fuming about the circumstances that brought me to this safe haven. As good as the barmaid looked, she and I weren't going to get any friendlier than the relationship of bartender and customer.
"Excuse me. Could you pass the nuts, please."
I was startled. There was a great Stephen Stills song playing and I was kind of lost in the moment. I hadn't noticed that a guy had sat down at the bar. We were a stool apart.
'Sorry, I was reliving my youth." I passed the bowl of nuts to my new neighbor. Thank God he asked for them because I didn't have the will power to push them aside. At least now, I would be saved from my gluttony.
"Great place to come and relive your youth. The jukebox has a great selection. And the staff here is the best around." He and the barmaid exchanged winks.
The barmaid served him with what looked like a whiskey on the rocks. How profane! It's almost a crime to water down good whiskey.
"Here's to your health," he said as he raised his glass to me. I looked at my glass only to find it empty.
"Miss, could I get another Jameson, please?" She must have had a premonition because my refill was in front of me as I said the word "please."
'And here's to yours." We touched our glasses and drank our elixirs.
"We have some things in common."
What would that be?" I asked of this man, a few years younger than I, but with a very pleasant demeanor.
