this is a good group of people. i'm at the american legion. a healthy slice of americana. my oldest son bert likes to play poker. he doesn't have a license, so i'm the driver tonight. al usually comes with him because al is always up for a poker game too. but al's dancing the night away at a trampled by turtles show tonight, so i'm at the wheel. bert's mostly independent aside from needing the ride, so i brought my unread people magazines and my laptop.
i'm four weeks behind so i haven't a clue how in the world kate's doing while william's away. i'm in the dark about the dream wedding of elizabeth smart and have only some nondescript twitter knowledge of linsanity. i leafed through the mail stack today and was confused to see risky business tom cruise on the cover. after reading the caption, i realize somehow davy jones has escaped me through the years so i'll take a crash course with His Life in Pictures. i knew he passed away, just couldn't have picked him out in a line up.
this friday night group of 50-somethings keeps it at a dull roar here at the legion. they poke a little fun, banter at the table, but mostly they just play cards and shout things like "pot's good" and "turn and burn" which makes me crack up as i wipe the sweat from the space between my nose and upper lip. maintaining an 80 degree temp is the norm at the legion. knowing that, i did layer up tonight, but still, i am cooking. turn down the heat barkeep!
it's all good in the legion, except for the old hag that cackled sharply and deafeningly when i spilled water on the bar while i was pouring ice water from the pitcher into the plastic dixie cup.
i had gone up to the bar. the kindly peanut-eating 75-year-old bartender with the short bouffant and dangly, red-carpet-ready, gold earrings took my order. miller lite. i didn't order my ushe corona with double lime because i figured they might not have either at the legion. i didn't want to seem hoity toity, or ungracious, or call attention to myself with a scene of 'we don't have that HERE missy'. miller lite's my old standby when i want to lay low at the legion.
look to my left, hot diggity dog, there's a fat pitcher of ice water at the bar next to two tall towers of plastic cups. this makes me giddy as now i don't have to keep asking granny for more water, another cup, just one more water please, all night long to assuage dehydration in this blasted heat.
i haven't gotten my sweatshirt off yet, so i feel a bead of sweat starting down my forehead. i can't get one of those cups in my fingers fast enough and when i start to pour, the flimsy little 6 ounce cup topples over and i spill the water.
enter the old bitty perched at the corner of the bar: "ahhcacklecackleahahahhhhhaa"! at least 10 sets of eyes darted my way, dashing my hopes of anonymity. noisy nelly did hand me a napkin, so she wasn't all evil.
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