So

Politics

the system

occasionally

my choice of writing

is to make longer phrases

anyway, that's not what I started to say


I was invited to attend a political fundraiser. I know the guy running. I like the guy. The guy is a good man. I went.

The event started an hour and a half after my work shift ended. I got there a half an hour after it started. I was seen. I left a check. I left. It had been six years since I was present at a political fundraiser. Things were as I remembered.

The seat I left twenty minutes prior was occupied so, I sat by the Jager machine. She rung me up a beer.

"You're number one, Timmy" Danielle told me.

"I wish I was number one other than on the tab" I surprised myself by saying that out loud. I had meant to say it just to me but that's what happens when you start to get too comfortable around people.

I watched her thinking. I just meant I wanted to be number one in something, anything, something that no one would be better at then me but I was guessing she thought I was flirting with her, which I innocently sometimes do, and we both knew she couldn't name me number one in her heart. She has a boyfriend. I waited for the answer, an answer she wished would brighten my day. I thought it would be good, she just put herself on a hook "You're number one and a half"

I was impressed and thanked her, genuinely, even though in reality, I'm not in the top forty. Number one and a half is better than being called number two.

My friends came in staggeredly, we would leave staggering. That's not true but I just wanted to write it. They came in - one, then two more, then no more. We get to leave our tab open without a credit card which sometimes makes our tab number hard to figure out when we get served by someone different.

"Mark, I think Danielle put us on number one" I said as I watched him looking longer than I thought he should.

"Thanks" I then worried that I butt in and know too much about the workings of the bar.

It was Paul's birthday, we celebrated with libations while watching the local baseball team drop a game. Yvonne was with us and after a couple she suggested we visit someone else. Three of us walked a block away. Dick left for home.

"I hate this place. Have you ever been here?" Paul said.

I told him I've never been. We sat next at the bar next to our visitee and ordered a round, when our bill came Yvonne offered a twenty.

"Don't take her money. He can't pay because it's his birthday and I'm not letting her pay" I said pointing at each of them.

"No! Take my money." she said as she shook the bill.

"Don't"

We had the bartender in a tug of war and I started to feel a little ridiculous. I wasn't holding my money out because I've been trained not to do such things. I do my best to just make eye contact, no waving, no whistling, no calling out, no flashing money. I held my cash at the edge of the bar closest to him but he was closer to Yvonne. The fate of the bill was in his hands. Paul had no choice but to just watch because he was seated between us.

"The way I remember it is that the guy gets to pay" the bartender said.

I smiled at the victory handed to me and then said "Thank you, Rick" and then paired my twenty with a ten.

"Next round's on me, in honor of the birthday boy. Just make sure you order from me." I thanked him again.

"See Paul, it ain't so bad. There are some nice looking girls here and we just got a free beer."

Paul wasn't placated and when the second round came he hoisted his bottle and said "Here's to never coming here again. We should have never left *the regular place*"

I clinked his bottle with my own. "Yeah, but sometimes it's good to be reminded."

Upon leaving I tossed a twenty on the bar and Paul gave me a disapproving look.

"What? We're never coming here again. We drank to it. And he didn't have to get us a round" I don't think he agreed with my reasoning but he accepted it.


...

"It's not the alcohol that I have a problem with."

"Then what?"

The silence gained in weight as I debated whether or not to divulge the truth.

"Nothing. Never mind. It's the booze."

I'm not at the bar frequently because of intoxicating drinks. I'm there because I'm avoiding the rest of my life. A lot of requests end when you say "I'm Downtown still" or "I'm out with friends." I could hang out at the library or the coffee shop but neither of those carry the same dismissive clout as a bar room.

At gatherings, either formal or as casual as a poker game, I don't drink a lot. At home I drink very little.

It's not the booze, it's the escape, there are times I wish to hide from what I've created. I've never been able to drink enough to forget, well not enough to forget the things I wish to forget. There have been times when I couldn't remember the subway ride home but then why would I.

...

if you were listening to the budget hearings broadcasted by the local access channel you would have heard my name mentioned with a modicum of thankful praise.

...

"Timmy, I want one of those shirts for my birthday" she said as she pointed to something over my head. I didn't have to look because I knew what was there.

"In medium?" Paul guessed

"Yeah, Size 8. Now do you want one of those shirts or those cookies?"

"I want 'em both."