I admit it, I sum people up by a glance, a look, their clothes, their hair, but most often: by their drink of choice.
Sitting down in an Irish Pub in Manhattan, watching the Mets battle it out with the Yankees for the fourth time in three days, I'm thrilled. Baseball is the greatest gift given to man (and woman).
Nancy sits on a bar stool (my only female friend who not only watches baseball, but actually gives a damn about the sport) wearing her Wright jersey and her long brown hair in a pony tail. I stand next to her with my Reyes tee shirt and Irish Mets baseball cap. (White hat, green Mets logo, small green shamrock on the brim. My FAVORITE Mets hat... Yes, I have many others.) We drank, and we cheered, and we humored the Yankee fans that surrounded us. And we cheersed our BluePoint Hoptical Illusion when we felt it was necessary. Like when Delgado hit a homer off Rasner in the third.
[Side Note: If you don't know what Hoptical Illusion is, it's an amber ale brewed on Long Island and is very hard to get. But I grew up on it, love it more than life, and cherish EVERY sip I get to indulge in when I'm in the city.]
Just as I was ordering another beer a man approached my left attempting to squeeze in between me and the bar. Essentially, he was trying to cut me.
"Excuse me. I was here."
"Sorry, I just wanted to get another drink."
"Don't we all? I mean, that is why we're here, isn't it?"
"I suppose. I just didn't think it was that big of a deal to try and squeeze through."
"It's fine. But you should learn to exercise more patience and wait your turn."
Alright, I know that typing this conversation, I am coming off as really mean. But realistically, I was being sarcastic, I had a small smirk on my face while saying all of this, and was flirting like crazy. And he seemed to notice. And appreciated it.
"Tom."
"Dean."
"So, Dean. If you let me cut the line, I would be happy to buy you a drink."
"Well, if you want to buy me a drink that's one thing. But I require more payment for cutting the line."
"Name it."
"I'll come up with something. In the mean time, I will take a Hoptical."
"You got it. Guy! Can I get a Hoptical for the lady and I'll have an Appletini."
"I hope that Appletini's for your baby sister waiting at a table somewhere for you."
"No, it's for me."
"Thanks for the beer." I tell him as I slip him the $10 it cost and turned my back to him to face Nancy again.
Appletini? Appletini. Guys really drink Appletinis? Christ, I know high school girls who drink tougher drinks than that. I know I'm being judgmental... But a man who prefers a dainty little drink he can sip casually with his picky in the air, is not the guy for me. Not even for one night.
I need a real man.
One with some scruff. A baseball hat. Preferably with a goatee of some sort. And one who will drink a fucking beer, god dammit.
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3 comments:
A) Where has this blog been?
B) You wore a Reyes T and Irish Mets hat to a pub for the Subway Series? And went to Bonaroo? And shitted all over a dude for ordering an appletini when you requested a beer?
... I clearly proposed to the wrong girl.
C) RE: Last paragraph. Uh, check mark on all four counts. Not sayin, just sayin. For the record ;)
BB:
A) This blog is new and much more crude that my other (which as you can tell I've been neglecting).
B) Yes, I wore my Reyes shirt. But only because it didn't feel appropriate to wear my Alou shirt since he has been on the DL since the beginning of time. I live for music. I will go to any festival. Even when I never heard of the bands playing. Yea, any guy drinking appletinis may as well be drinking a wine cooler.
C) ;) Actually, make that a double... ;) ;)
A) Duly noted.
B) The fact that you went out and bought a Moises Alou shirt ... that is frakking amazing. Your Mets fandom is forthwith unquestionable. I've heard enough good about Bonaroo that I'm tempted, though I'm not a festival kinda kid. Love the small venues though. And, yeah, agreed.
C) Any more smileys and I'd read those as batted eyelashes, ha.
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