Stopped in at my neighborhood pub last night a couple of pints, some word exchange Colorful place on a perfect Spring evening people on tap, constantly spilling in and out
The place is bustling and packed loud and dynamic Sound flowing on open air drifting in from sidewalk patio and out to beer garden
Luckily nab a lonely stool near the entrance girl sitting kitty-corner around curving end of bar Casually we cover topics from her mac 'n cheese to wind chill generated by ceiling fans
Conversation is suddenly confiding prior night's end-all fight with her live-in boyfriend Obvious need to talk to someone neutral bartenders are busy, so it's me and we do
She's come seeking emotional sanctuary awaiting his departure to some event Unhappy with her role in the argument unhappy with the person she has become with him
They'd intended to go ring shopping as recently as last week She now looks forward only to the comfort of quiet, pajamas, ice cream, dreamless sleep
Upon leaving, she twice asks that I promise to be here if she finds no solitude and must return This is no request...more of an appeal alone in privacy is one thing...alone in festivity another
I promise twice - I'll be here she doesn't return I sincerely hope that she's well on her way to an ice cream induced pj slumber
Less than an hour later...same bar stool
Pleasingly boisterous bachelorette party arrives staking claim to a nearby parcel of floor Numerous "excuse me" squeeze-throughs for drink orders rendering me a semi-familiar bar obstacle
One reveless wedges in, questions me what color underpants do I have on...don't recall Insists that we check...dark bluish-grey too bad...she was hoping for purple to match her own
Impishly waiting long enough for my mind to stew she finally reveals the query as part of a formal interactive checklist I apologize for not being more daring in spectrum we laugh, nevertheless...strike one
Eventually exchanging pleasantries with another a more subtle approach, but the inquisition repeats Here we go again...Batter up!...Red?...very sorry...strike two I'm feeling of no value to this effort
Red offers me a redeeming pitch from the list someone must serenade the bride-to-be I accept and get to meet the veiled celebrity she wears an engaging and jubilant aura
Gauging the atmosphere, I decide against romantic opting for a song that playfully questions the sanity of her choice From my heart, I sing the chorus to Matchbox Twenty's "Unwell" It goes over very well and I avoid strike three
She and I hit it off, we discuss her wedding plans discover our roots are in the same part of the city I'm rewarded for my musical contribution allowed to buy her a shot of Patrón...the checklist dwindles
Now partaking in the excitement of their celebration an honorary addition to the large but exclusive group My joyous new acquaintance has us take a picture together a snapshot of this special occasion to which I've somehow been privileged
A train of waves, goodbyes, thanks, and good lucks trails the party as I watch it crawl to the next establishment In the hushed cacophony, I return to my thoughts a fantastic diversity of emotional experience within two short hours
My elbows on the bar in sober contemplation counting crows ...one...two...juxtaposed A contrast of simultaneous realities somberly lamenting vs vibrantly anticipating
Reflecting on the beauty in such contrasts that serve to define the images of our lives I finally come to the inevitable conclusion it's time for another pint...of ice cream