It has recently occurred to me how odd bars are. I spend a lot of time in them, more than the average, but for whatever reason I never realized the truth of them.
People drink there.
Sometimes there’s food, though generally not very good. Sometimes there are pool tables, and dart boards, and tv’s, and karaoke; but those are all minor diversions to the reality of the situation:
People drink there.
I was on my second double when I reached that introspection stage where you kind of fade back from the conversations around you and spend a little time with your inner thoughts. This time, it was kind of like that time-lapse effect you see on tv shows where the protagonist stands perfectly still and the world moves around him in double-time. I saw little knots of people, drinks in hand, swaying back and forth, moving in small circles as a group, caught in the tidal flow of an invisible ocean. Others went up stairs then back down them minutes later, then up again. Lines at the bar got shorter then longer and back again; the one constant being the addition of glasses in the hands of all those who stepped up to the rail. And the tinkling of laughter and glass touching glass settled lightly on the entire scene.
Poetic hyperbole aside, what more were they (or I) actually doing? Nothing more than all gathering in the same place to drink something, enough of which would cause them to forget that they had in the first place. There’s no judgement associated with this observation; I’m just as guilty, if not more so, than the people around me. It just struck me interesting…you know, like a plastic bag caught in an updraft.*
*poetic hyperbole!