Life at Kelly's
There was a guy in the bar who was always glowering at me. This was about 15 years ago at the old Kelly's Tavern, a long-gone dive bar at Third and Bell in Seattle. I never saw this guy talking to anyone, just nursing a beer and looking a little menacing.
In other words, a perfect guy for me to connect with, or so I thought.
For months he would see me across the bar, and watch me. I never said anything to him, he never said anything to me, or to anyone for that matter, except to order whatever draft beer was cheap.
After weeks of this, I had my perfect moment. Just as I walked into Kelly’s, he walked into the men’s room. I could see where he left his beer and back pack, so I settled in next to his spot with my diet Pepsi.
He comes back out, plops down next to me.
“Seen you around.”
It went downhill from there. He responded to “internal stimulus” as they say. Little green men were making sure we were unable to find our way to the escape hatch through to the 4th dimension under our flat earth. It was like uncorking a bottle of very colorful carbonated home brew, which someone had set on a warm windowsill before shaking up. Once all the foam had sprayed out, there was nothing left, so he bid me goodnight, and moved on. Never saw him again.
For people who think there are easy answers to every social ill, I want you to consider hanging out in a dive bar for a month or so.