He didn't even say hi.
"There's nobody here."
"Well hello. I'm here. You're here. Enough for a party."
I smiled. What else can you do?
"Yeah, but there's nobody here."
"Well, try not to invalidate my existence in the process."
"Huh? Is there a cover charge?"
"Yup, 5 bucks."
"Oh........."
"Oh yeah?"
"Uhhhh, is there really a cover? There's nobody here."
The truth was a crowd some 25 folks deep, half on the back deck smoking, half scattered about the dance floor. It was 10:00pm and the bar had been open almost a whole hour. The night was quite young in a bar with a typically late crowd.
Half an hour the whole place would be crawling.
"Why don't cruise the block a couple times and find yourself. You can revisit this graveyard and see what you think then."
"Find myself? What the hell does that mean?"
"Oh, you know, a little self awareness might do you some good in the recognizance of others. Ya never know."
"What does that have to do with me? Others and recog-, recog-, recogni-,...whatever dude. I'll be back later."
"I'll be here."
He looked puzzled and left, leaving the door open. Most do. Someday I'm gonna get something to automatically shut that fucking thing.
Minutes rolled by and folks filled the club slow and steady. They always do.
And then he came back.
"Oh wow, there's people here now!"
"Yup, and now there's a line at the bar. Can I see your I.D. please?"
"Didn't you already see my I.D.?"
"Nope. Fork it over."
He huffed indignantly, fumbled through his pockets and produced and I.D. with teeth marks and holes all over it.
"My dog ate it."
"Ya think? That'll be 10 dollars please."
"10 dollars!? It was only 5 dollars just 30 minutes ago!"
"Sure was. There were fewer people here 30 minutes ago. More people, less space, higher demand for space, higher price...you know how it goes in America...supply and demand and shit."
"But you said the cover was 5 bucks earlier."
"Yeah, and now I'm saying it's 10. Cough it up. You got a line behind you now."
"Why the fuck would I wanna pay 10 bucks now when it was only 5 earlier!?"
"Look dude, how long you planning on holding up the fucking line? You gonna pay or what?"
"Dude? Wha-, Dude!?...I resent your flagrant misuse of personal pronouns. I'm offended. Do you assume everyone's designated pronoun? You don't know me."
"You're right about that - asshole. That a better choice of pronouns? Now, pay or fuck off. You're holding up the line."
"You can't treat a customer like this, you motherfucker!"
"Alright! Way to pick those pronouns, prick! And you're not a customer yet. Now cough up the 10 bucks or get the fuck out! Getting tired of this shit and so is everyone else."
Seven deep into the line moaned in affirmation, adding their own descriptives to the mix.
He looked back, catching enough eyes to make up his mind.
He angrily slapped a 10 spot on the desk and huffed again, attempting to outdo his earlier show, crossing his arms to finish.
"Fantastic! Now, let's get you a wristband."
He thrust his arm across the desk, pushing his fist into my personal space. I quickly wrapped the blue band around his wrist, making sure to catch as much arm hair as naturally possible with the adhesive backing.
