Remembrance of Things Pabst.

One of the worse things you can do in a bar is talk to the regulars. You see every bar has a couple of lost souls that are there every day come rain or come shine. The might be retired or a secretary that works in the building across the street. When you first meet them they might seem superficially interesting. But the thing is they tell you the same stories over and over again. If you don’t come in and sit next to them when you walk in the bar then they mark you as lousy as too big for your britches. So to be polite you get stuck listening to the same tired bullshit time after the time.

The trick is always being nice and say hello but never get into a one on one conversation with them. Be polite and don’t actively show that you don’t want to talk to them, just spout a generality or two and then excuse yourself to go to the bathroom or to make a phone call or grab a cigarette. Even if you don’t smoke.

There was a place on 46th street called the Pig & Whistle that was just like that. It was an old school Irish Bar that was set up just the way I love it. Guinness and Jameson with a generous pour and a liberal buy back policy. I always tip extremely well so I was very popular with all the bartenders. But they had these two women that were regulars that were really a pain in the ass. They were superficially attractive and you would think it would be a good idea to talk to them. But they were stone cold psycho. I mean that is not to say that they didn’t have talent. One of them could fit a whole cigar in her mouth. My buddy was clipping his cigar and she goes to him “You know you need to moisten that up” He goes “Why are you gonna help me out.” “Sure” she says and takes the cigar, puts it between her lips and sucks it right in. All the way in. Then takes it out. Backwards. Even took the label of for him. Now I don’t know about you but that was kind of scary.

Her conversation was even worse. She had a mouth like a truck driver and had to recount how every man she ever met screwed her over. It just got old listening to that shit. It is the bartender’s job to nip that shit in the bud you know. I mean he has to tell her to cut that shit out or else find another bar. Or the people who are going to find another place where they don’t have to listen to bullshit all the time.

So it was time to give the Pig and Whistle a Pass-a-dena after that. You see the regulars were just too annoying. I gave up hanging around on street corners because the conversation was the same old bullshit every day. It just wasn’t worth it to wet you Whistle when you had to listen to some stupid pigs.

So to speak.