365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

224. Drinks on Me

224. Drinks on Me: Write a poem or short story that takes place at a bar.

This is inspired by the stories my bartender relative has told me, but as I've never been to a bar, I'm guessing on a lot of what goes on in there.

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I know a lot of secrets I probably shouldn't. It's not like I asked to know them, but people are amazingly open when they're drunk. It's like something has loosened: some moral or some lock or some combination of the two. Or maybe they're just aching to let out their secrets, and here I am: quiet, in possession of booze, and unable to tell them I really don't care because they might be offended. People are also incredibly touchy when inebriated.

It's a good job, if you're okay with occasionally playing therapist. Sometimes I even like bartending, but only when I get a good customer come in. I know these types upon sight: they smile a lot and laugh even more. It's not hard to distinguish them. They're the ones that will make jokes with you and get merrier the more alcohol their systems contain. These people have their own special gift of being able to banter easily with anyone.

Not everyone comes in to get drunk, although we're not a high-class bar and getting wasted is the motivation of most of our customers. However, there's a few that like to drop in for a shot and our cheese fries, which is the only truly tasty dish we serve. The potato skins go limp and the mozzarella sticks have the consistency of rubber, but the cheese fries are okay. I don't bother with them, though. My forte is the alcohol and the people who come to it.

I'm pretty sure this place will go bankrupt and I'll be out of a job at some point, but it's easy to push that thought away when I'm working. I focus on the problems of the people I serve, and they're only too happy to accept the attention. It makes it more entertaining to hear stories than watch the sports game playing on TV, anyway, even if sometimes I inwardly laugh at how silly people can be.

I hear it all: the problems with their friends, parents, lovers, and children. I hear why they fell out of love and what the meaning of life is. I hear rants and spoken love letters. I hear stories of desperation, hope, courage, and failure -- all with the bareness and vulnerability of drunkenness. Sometimes I give advice and sometimes I just listen. There has been a lot of life spilled into my breast since I've been a bartender.

People are funny when they lose some of their restraints. Occasionally they become reckless, but other times they reveal who they honestly are under their layers. I won't lie: I like people a lot better when they drink too much. I see a lot of sides of humanity that others don't get to see -- sides that people are afraid of seeing. It all convinces me further that humans are incredibly silly and occasionally stupid, and that what we're all doing is trying.