Found out another one of my local bars from back home is closing. So, I dug something up in my old online diary to “celebrate.”
The evening ended with two glasses of cranberry juice in Ann Marie’s favorite irish pub, the music being blasted into the tiny crevasse-y space reminding me of times squished in there with Greg. The door swinging open making me wonder if I’d see Breaux.
I realized drinking in that bar is like imbibing in a haunted house. You get drunk and your ghosts appear.
Ann Marie’s ghost sat at the bar and she wanted to buy him a drink, but I pinched her. “If you even so much as say hello to him I’m going to announce to the bar that you’ve just soiled your pants.”
"If you do any such thing, I’m going to get that cute boy that’s all about you to come over here and buy you a drink…"
"NO!" I pleaded, horrified.
We collected our coats and tied up our boa scarves and headed for the door, avoiding Ann Marie’s ghost and brushing past the cute boy she’d tagged for me, tall and gangly like Kevin, sideburns like Spike, glasses and a couple other qualities that made me wonder, why even bother?
I hopped into the Bunny and blasted off into the night.
It’s funny to look back now and realize how jaded I was on the local scene when I was 25. And so boy crazy! (I was 5 months away from meeting Forrest!!!)
And just think- soon there will be no place left to return to and reenact my shitbag youth.