You meet alot of different people as a bartender. There are married couples who just got off of work and want to unwind as they sip cocktails and gripe about "Ron at the office" (who's a real jackass). You see couples who aren't married-at least to each other...who always arrive separately and talk to their spouses on the phone- then leave in the same vehicle. There are women who get a random night away from the kids to sip wine with their girlfriends and gripe about their husbands. There are men who sit alone, ask if you're married, tell you never to do it...then proceed to hit on you. Then there is the occasional traveler who is in town on business and stays until you half beg them to leave so you can go home.
You also hear alot of things as a bartender. Couple's fight, men talk about failed marriages, women gripe about never finding that "perfect man", traveler's discuss their jobs-in great detail- giving you the idea that they don't do much else...you wipe down the bar and smile. Sometimes you even actually enjoy these conversations and laugh as this man tries desperately to explain that his ex-wife was just "the devil incarnate", while the lady at the other end of the bar is ending a conversation with the words "My Husband has lost his damn mind." sometimes you raise your eyebrows and say "Hey. That is enough." When the 5 men who have been sipping beer for the last 2 hours start getting a little to brave and vocal. Then you carry on; washing dishes and pouring drinks like you don't have ears unless you patrons say "Miss? another please?".
Tonight was different. I enjoy my job- I have people I see regularly that I really enjoy. A few I flat out adore. Tonight we had a group of 4 men come in to sit at the bar top for Happy Hour. The 3 that showed up first were probably late 30's, early 40's. In town on business, and very polite. After a few rounds they loosened up, started to make jokes, and I was actually enjoying them as they tried so hard to embarrass each other. Then this much older man wobbles in, he is hunched over and smiles weakly at me. He takes a seat next to one of the guys on the end, and says "Hey fellas"...in a very old and raspy voice. They mumble a round of "heys" and in one swift movement the guy on the end sitting next to this older fellow turns his chair inward-putting his back to him. The old man orders a beer and proceeds to talk with the group. They call him "Denver" and explain to me that he works with them. He tells me he is originally from Denver and starts to explain Colorado in complete and utter detail as I run around trying to take care of 3 tables- the entire bar top and 3 to-go orders. Awesome-I think. One of these.
The younger bar fellows explain to me that one of them is picking up the food tab, one is picking up the beer tab, and "Denver" is by himself. They continue with their male banter, and ignore him as he tries desperately to be a part of the conversation. They finally give in and ask him what he's babbling about- to which he says "nothin..." and looks down into his beer glass meekly as they scoff and continue on. After a few hours the younger bar fellows decide to leave. They tell me thank you and dart out the door, leaving "Denver" at the bar by himself. By this time he has had 3 beers and a double Jameson and has told me he isn't driving 3 times. But he isn't slurring and I can drink that amount fairly easily so I think nothing of it. He starts to make conversation again about Colorado. How beautiful it is and whatnot. He tells me he was a bartender for 10 years and that he's a good tipper. He asks me about school and other small talk as I restock the bar and watch the game. He asks about turning up the volume on the tv and I explain that we can't- so he walks next door to the hotel he is staying at and gets his Ipod- puts it on the radio station and offers to share his headphones. I decline politely seeing as I have to move around; so he removes them and continues to chat with me. I start to get the feeling that the poor guy is grasping for straws, and I feel bad for ignoring him as he tries to make conversation. I make it a point to chat with him as I move about- organizing the beer and cleaning my tables.
After another beer (#5) he tells me he was in Vietnam- that he was an engineer and a gunner. He said going to war then coming home is like driving 120 miles per hour, then 30 miles per hour. When everyone tells you to relax- you don't know how. Everything seems so slow and that diesn;t make any sense. He says war :"takes a piece of you, and even when you're better...it's still a black spot". He tells me he came close to dying a few times over there but he was too stubborn. He giggles as he leans back on the bar stool, shakes his head and tells me he was a "young, macho kid" who tore his body up with motorcycles, skiing black diamond slopes, and hiking the peaks of the mountains in Colorado where he grew up. He says "You remind me of my daughter. Strong. Driven. Not afraid to say what you want... but you do it in a charming way."
He said he got married, raised his kids, and then... his wife wanted a divorce. he said it was his fault- that he "made a mess of things". He said His kids were grown, and going through their own stuff at the time, and that he felt bad he put then through so much. He said after his wife left, and his kids stopped calling "They didn't have time for dad" he explained. "I don't blame them...I never let them know anything was wrong". He started smoking cocaine, and a few other things- hee looks down at his glass as he tells me this. But at the end he looks up and he smiles. He has been clean for 6 years.
After a fairly lengthy conversation he says to me in a small but muffled raspy voice "I'm sorry...I dont know why I'm telling you all of this. I think I feel like strangers don't judge you...I just don't have anyone to talk to I guess..." as he gazes down into his empty Jameson glass, grasped between two wrinkled and deeply callused hands. "Well" I said, leaning on the bar- "Sounds to me like you have alot to be proud of. You raised successful kids, you fought for your country, you overcame an addiction...that makes you ok in my book." He looked up at me- Alot of people look at you, but I swear he looked down into my soul- and he smiled. His eyes got misty and said "well sweetheart.....that's somethin." As he shuffled into the night, I smiled to myself. I may never know his whole story. I'll never know if all of it was true or not-big fish stories from an old man perhaps. But I s aw something vulnerable and true in him, and for that I thank him. For giving me perspective, for allowing me to be a part of a few of the battles he fights every day, and for making me feel like just maybe, I can make a small difference when I least expect it.
