"What can I get for you?" asked an unfamiliar voice. I turned away from the baseball game on TV. I knew every voice in this bar. From every bartender, to the last drunk standing. Yet this did not ring a bell. I turned to face one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. "Uhh...Guinness please." She walked away towards the tap. I've been in this bar countless times. This was my bar, my local. But never once has a more gorgeous women walked in here, let alone worked here. She placed my beer in front of me, took my money and walked away. I stood there, speechless, my hand barely gripping my beer. The night went on like any other Friday night. She brought me beer after beer, and I watched the game. And watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was quick with the buybacks. And soon enough, I was seeing two of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen to pour a Guinness behind the bar.
The next morning, I told my roommate about the bartender. He was just as much as a regular as I was. Our ass grooves were imprinted on the two seats at the end of the bar. "Friday night? You must be thinking of Andy," he laughed. "How drunk were you?" I went back to the bar again that week and didn’t see her. I may not be the sanest human being at times, but I wasn’t delusional. By this time, everyone I knew was in on the joke. "I got drunk and fell in love with a mysterious, never-before-seen bartender". I decided to prove everyone wrong and invite my friends to an after work Friday drinking session. I almost didn’t believe myself, until I walked in. there she was. Brown eyes, shoulder length black hair and all. My friends and I exchanged glances. They believed me.
"Guinness, if I remember?" she asked as I approached the bar. I nodded. "You were in here Friday night. I’m Eliza." she extended her hand and smiled. I took her hand and introduced myself. The entire night she seemed to drag me away from my group of friends. She wanted to know what I did. Where I lived, the whole nine yards. Normally, I would chalk this up to a bartender being a bartender, but this was a Friday night. She had a packed bar but she still seemed to make time for me. I felt like I was the only guy in the bar. After a few hours, and a few buybacks later, we said goodbye. As I gathered my friends and walked out the door, I turned to catch one last glimpse of my new favorite bartender. And sure enough, she was catching a glimpse of her new favorite regular.
During the next few weeks, I came in a little more often. The bar was located right underneath the train, so it was easy to get to after work. And if I didn’t see her, I could still have a proper pint. But I did run into her more times than not. I sat at the same barstool at the end, and she would always have Guinness pouring as soon as I walked in the door. The more I went in by myself, the more she seemed to hang out with me at the end of the bar. I would look across the room and see people looking for drinks, yet there she was, talking to me. How my day was, her man problems, our mutual liking of quarter machine dinosaurs. When I brought my roommate and his girlfriend with me, she would come spend time with us at the end of the bar. I’d take her to the jukebox, and I’d play songs I hated because she asked me. She would disappear and suddenly, a song I liked, that I know she hated would come on. And each time we would smile. I'd catch her staring at me from across the room, just as many times as she'd catch me. Life was good at the bar. By this time, I had started to think that she might be into me. I’ve been going to bars for a long time, and realize that the female bartender always seems interested, so she can get bigger tips. But this one felt different. Was she that good at her job, that even with my pre-conceived notion of female bartenders, she had convinced me that I may be more than a patron? Or was it possible, that I actually might have a shot with one of the most beautiful girls in Queens?
I came in one Tuesday as usual, because I knew she'd be working. "I have some news," she said. A slight smile came across her face. "I’m working Thursday days now." "Great," I replied. "but I work that day until six." She rolled her eyes. "I know, but that means I can hang out with you." My eyes widened. This was surely the proof I needed that she felt the same way about me, as I did her. The night went as usual. I drank. We talked. I stumbled home. I went in that Wednesday after work. She smiled at me as she grabbed her tips from the day and disappeared downstairs. Never before had a bartender shown so much interest in me, let alone say she wanted to see me outside of the bar. I was ecstatic. She came up the stairs and walked over to me, at my usual spot. "It's our staff holiday party tonight. So I have to run home and shower. But I’ll see you at nine-thirty?" she asked. I looked at the time. That was two hours away. "I don’t know. My friends are down a few blocks at a different bar, and that a lot of time to sit at a bar by yourself." She smiled, putting on her jacket. "I'll see you at nine-thirty." she said, walking out the door. I finished my pint and smiled. "another one? On the house..." the on-coming bartender asked. I declined. "Save it for nine-thirty." I replied, heading out the door.
I had two hours. I took a nap. I shat, I showered, and I shaved. I put on my favorite sneakers and sweater. I was determined to look good tonight. It was a holiday party after all. Somewhere in the process of getting ready, I decided that if an opportunity presented itself, I would finally tell Eliza how I felt. My roommate called me just as I was heading out the door. I had explained the situation and my plan. “I gotta see this...” he said and hung up. I put my headphones on and locked the door. He never missed a chance to watch me make an ass of myself, I thought as I walked down the street.
I peered into the window of the bar, as I stood outside to finish my smoke. I was surprised at what I saw. My local bar was packed. On a Wednesday night. I threw my smoke on the ground and headed inside, determined to get my seat at the bar. But every seat was taken, and there was at least one person behind the people seated. I only managed to get a beer by catching the bartender’s eye. I didn’t have to say anything, he knew what I wanted. I finally got my beer and spotted an open table in the corner. I had yet to see Eliza or my roommate, so I figured I’d grab the table for when everyone arrives. I was only alone for a few minutes before my roommate and his girlfriend stumbled in. They grabbed their drinks and spotted me at the table. He less-than-gracefully sat down, as a drunken smile came across his face. “She here yet?” he asked. I shook my head and began to ask them about the previous bar they were at, as they both seemed a little worse for the wear. We talked for a bit and got another round, my eyes occasionally making their way to the door. And that’s when she walked in. She was wearing black high heels, black stockings and a form fitting, little black dress. She came over to the table as I sat slack jawed. “Hey everybody.” She said smiling. We exchanged pleasantries before she excused herself to the bar. I watched her order her drink, and saw that she had cast a glimpse at me over her shoulder. But she didn’t come back to our table when she got her drink. She joined a group of girls in the middle of the bar, presumably her friends. I sat with my roommate and his girlfriend for a few more pints. He was quickly becoming the drunkest guy on the planet, and I was right behind him. My night wasn’t going as planned. We were polishing off our pints, deciding it was best to call it a night, as Eliza walked to our table. “My friends and I are going down a few blocks for karaoke. I think you guys should come.” she said, walking back to her friends. I’m not sure if it was the way she smiled as she said it or it was just the booze talking, but this was surely the opening I was waiting for. I looked at my roommate. “We’re going to karaoke.”
It took a few minutes of convincing, but before I knew it we were walking down the boulevard towards the next bar. My roommate and his girlfriend were having some drunken conversation that I wasn’t following. I was too busy thinking about Eliza. She had just invited me out to a different bar to get drinks. This was all the proof I needed that she was into me. She had clearly crossed the bartender/patron line. I was as good as gold, I assured myself holding the door for everyone. “You came!” Eliza said, as we walked in. “Shots for everyone!” she screamed to the bartender. I was falling more in love by the second. She split her time between us and her friends. We sang songs, we drank beers, we did shots. Everybody was rocking, having a great time. My roommate’s girlfriend informed that they needed to go. I looked down the bar at my roommate. His forearms were on the bar, and they were the only thing holding him up. I decided to stay, and took his drunkest guy on the planet crown from him before he left. After all, I still had a bartender to sweep off her feet. The night continued as it had been going, when Eliza said she told me she was going outside to have a smoke. This was the moment I’d been waiting all night for. I watched her put on her jacket, and walk towards the door. I put on mine and followed her outside.
The next morning, was a standard "drunkest guy on the planet" hangover. I couldn’t remember parts of the night, my eyes were bloodshot and I could follow the trail of my clothing from the bed to apartment door. I lit a smoke and sat on the couch. My roommate came out and asked me how the rest of the night went. "I can’t remember much after you left," I said. "But I feel like shit". "We both we're pretty drunk." he replied. I shook my head. "This isn’t like a hangover feel like shit, this is something went terribly wrong, feel like shit." He shrugged and left the room. I put out the rest of my smoke and took a shower. That night after work, I decided to stop by the bar. I had spent all day thinking, to trying to pull back those memories from the brink of darkness, to no avail. I walked into the bar and paused. Her eyes met mine, and immediately I knew. I made my way to my usual seat, back to the other side of the bartender/patron line. She came over and faintly smiled. "Guinness?" I nodded. She wouldn’t be the first beautiful woman to break my heart, and surely not the last. But this was still my favorite bar. And she was still my favorite bartender. And sometimes, that’s all you need.
