Watering Hole Sideshow

I remember the night being hot, but I can't be sure. Outside the bar a sign red “Deli,” but few were there looking for a link of German sausage. For what seemed like hours seven of us had crowded around a table made for four. We talked of nothing in particular, to the point that I can't now recall what was said. Though perhaps I was distracted by what was to happen.

At one point those inclined to smoke went outside to do so, leaving three of us to our clean lungs. Soon after an old man in an electric wheel chair rolled through the door. He kept on his path steadily, knocking over several chairs and almost upturning a table full of bottles as he went. He muttered apologies but made no move to alter his course. A few tos a fros and he settle himself at a large, empty table. I had risen to move a few chairs out of his path, and soon sat myself back in my place, returning to my companions.

After a time my eye was caught by another person entering the bar. This was a woman, skinnier than most, which was highlighted by the fact she was wearing only her underwear. This was not a particularly nice pair of underwear, and in fact did not match. I thought that if someone was going to wear only their underthings to a bar they might pick out their nicest pair. Later I mentioned this to a friend, who was quick to mention that most women wore only the basics most days. Perhaps her choice of undress was a quick one on her part. Perhaps this was the nicest pair she owned.

She acted as normally as a woman wearing only underwear can, and the rest of us tried to catch glimpses of this fashion rebel without trying to seem too interested. She sat at the same table as the man in the wheel chair. They seemed to know each other and talked quite seriously, creating a bond of those with no heed to the expectations of society. At some point I believe I saw the owner of the establishment talk to the unclothed lady, who soon left the premises as unceremoniously as she entered it.

Our smoking comrades soon returned with a few others. Our bloated numbers forced us to a new table, deeper into the bar, and if it was warm in there, likely hotter. A half our or so passed and a number of unremarkable people sat with the wheel chair man. Then entered an older, bearded man caring a large, stuffed bear. He sat his stitched companion at its own chair and went to get a drink. One of my friends started yelling out the get that bear a drink. The man paid no notice to the bear when he came back, and having to work the next morning I soon left.