Not too long ago, like last Friday night, Susan pretended she was thirty and went out to a bar to hear a band.

For many years Susan was no stranger to bars and bands. No stranger. Her current status as a grown-up and positive influence to her children really doesn't allow for this sort of recreational activity. But, she doesn't miss it because she's able to get her drinking and loud music listening done at home.

A co-worker of Susan's little sister was the lead singer, the band was in Susan's age range, Beatles songs were in their repertoire and the evening was shaping up to be unremarkable. But, beggars can't be choosers and there would be Guinness on tap for one post-menopausal suburban beggar with a potty mouth and a big birthday coming up.

Little sister's childhood girlfriend, code name Hot Widow, met them in the parkinglot. Inside was m*therfucking LOUD, it was so loud that the bartender couldn't hear Susan even though she was screaming her drink order in his face. Eventually the band took a break and Susan got a chance to interact with her companions.
The crowd was mature. Was that Max Von Sydow in the back of the room? There were an abundance of nice boobs and bad hair. When a drunk grandmother dressed like Madonna tried to insinuate herself into the conversation Susan removed herself to get a second pint.

The band came back on, Susan withstood their racket until she couldn't tolerate another second and fled outside. Outside into the cool, quiet refuge of the night, under the illuminated Guinness On Draught sign. She wasn't alone, the bouncers and smokers were out as well as a highly stylized girl's motorcycle. It was zebra striped, very low slung and had long fringes hanging from the handlebars.
It was pretty. After a short time she got bored looking at the bike and walked across the street to buy a vanilla cigar at the gas station.

Susan stood outside smoking her cigar and signalled to her sister to join her. Little sister was out in a flash.
Things were much more lively for Susan then.
They shared the cigar and watched everything going on inside; the band screaming, Grammy Madonna bothering patrons with her drunk nonsense, a big unstable Lurch looking guy standing in Hot Widow's personal space blocking her view. What fun it was outside!
Eventually Max Von Sydow came out too. He got on his zebra striped motorcycle and rode off.

The band ceased their racket and the sisters went back in.
The band came back on and Susan went out.
She returned with beef lo mein and signalled to her sister to join her. Little sister was out in a flash.

The beef lo mein got Susan noticed. One gentleman inquired if she had beamed in from somewhere because the Chinese food seemed like it came from outerspace. Susan didn't want him to be afraid so she assured him that it only came from down the block.

This time when Susan was outside she saw a normal looking motorcycle on which rested a minimalist helmet with a HELMET LAWS SUCK sticker. Susan wondered about who owned the helmet and why helmet law sucked. Surely helmets only wanted to help people, not become the object of derision. Susan ate her lo mein, joked around with her sister and eventually the owner of the bike and helmet appeared. Paul. Susan asked Paul all her questions, learned all his answers and had a nice exchange of information. In the midst of their conversation Drunk Larry stumbled over and steered the sisters' attention his way with questions like are you as smart as you look? and have you always been pretty? Drunk Larry was funny in a charming and sad sort of way. Eventually it was time to leave so they rescued Hot Widow and went to the diner for some essential grease, starch, sugar and caffeine.


linlah said...

Paul is right, helmet laws do suck.

Cupcake Murphy said...

Susan knows all the perfect, odd, intriguing, tidbits to share in order to paint a picture so clear that I feel as if I were there eating the lo mein, judging the drunks and pitying the masher.

Meg at the Members Lounge said...

I like looking at things from the outside, too. The more interesting people are always there. Glad there was breakfast to end the evening, that is the best time of day to eat it.

The Zadge said...

How did we do that every night when we were in our 20s?!!!