Don’t pay the ransom! I’ve escaped the clutches of an afternoon at The Spring Street!
We all survived: Erin, April, T, and I.
You know, the proper order of an afternoon of drinking is very important. Me? I recommend starting off with a burger and fries, particularly if it comes with bacon and fried onions. Drinking on an empty stomach leads to early inebriation, awkward flirtations and headaches.
And who needs the headaches?
I truly enjoy the people one meets while at a bar and grill. I’m in love with humanity. The guy with the mohawk and the Minnesota Twins tattoos – that’s different. The girl in what appears to be a toddler’s t-shirt, a belt and a pair of thigh-high sandals, knee-walking drunk at 1:00 in the afternoon? That’s just plain dedication, folks.
It was a beautiful day on Saturday, and we spent a lot of it on The Spring’s patio.
Initially, I must admit that I was against the no-smoking-in-the-bar rule, but having to step out on to the patio to smoke has lead to the meeting of people you would not normally meet. It’s become an intimate act: the group standing outside, smoking their dirty little cigarettes, form a camaraderie based on engaging in the act most natural to a bunch of inebriated goofs: Smoking.
“What’s your name again?” The man has tattoos suggesting that he has a thing for skeletons.
Again? I enjoy the casual BS that goes along with the bar. “You don’t remember?” I say, feigning, disbelief. “You said we were soul mates! You said we’d last forever! Go! Just go – you’ve broken my heart!”
Poor guy. All he really wanted was my lighter.
I needed Saturday afternoon: the friends, the laughs, a little escape from reality.
A mini-vacation? I can afford it at The Spring.
It’s a helluva life.
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