Sunday, October 26, 2008

The Bartender

It was a usual lonely night in the city, being just moved in for three weeks, as I walked in to perhaps the only comparably hip local bar in Chinatown. I have been there a few times greeted mostly by the unfriendly vibe from the locals (somehow I felt like it’s the only place I can go to), except one bartender, Whitney, who was from a different neighborhood, Brooklyn. She was friendly, optimistic, and exuded a coolness that could be one of the guy’s best female buddies. Tall, beautiful, with a well-built figure attracted every guy from the bar. We talked a few times, without making it to the friend note. But that night, as I sat in and ordered a bottle of Heineken, we made a conversation that remained in my mind for a long time.

“It’s so boring here!” she said with exuberance, as if she was glad to see me.
“It sure is!” I said smilingly. “People got something stuck up their ass here.”
“Yea isn’t it intimidating?”Heineken
“Hmm not really,” as I tried to act like I don’t easily get intimidated, “It’s just that they shouldn’t have a reason to act this way.”

She looked at her cell phone a few times, perhaps looking at the time or whether if anyone had called her, as I sat with my Heineken, wondering what my life will be like in my future residency in New York.

“It’s… twelve thirty. You’re almost half done.” I said jokingly
“Thanks!!!” she said

“I love this song!” She said as Maroon5’s Makes Me Wonder started playing.
“Me too!” I said excitingly, since they generally play hip-hop. “What type of music do you usually listen to?”

“Alternative Rock.” she said with a smile. I smiled back and gave her the thumbs up. We then started chatting up and begin to get to know each other at our best. She told me that the bar is usually dead and the tips aren’t good at all, especially for a college student trying to make some money over the summer. It was her last night working there; she was going to a different bar on the Lower East where the tips are better and the more charming vibe that fits her personality wonderfully. In my mind, I finally found someone with such an uplifting character and attitude that I can easily get along with, after meeting with too many eccentric people in the city. She walked out of the counter and sat next to me. The night began to fill with joy, as we continued to converse, we noticed we had connected quite well.

“Man I hate this song…” as the This is Why I’m Hott song began to play.
“Me too!” she said in accordance, as I realized her agreement was triggered by the mutual, perhaps friendship, attraction.
“I should go get my iPod to play here.”
“You should!” She said excitingly.
“K, I’ll be right back.”

I walked anxiously to my apartment, filled with content. I haven’t had so much fun talking to someone in a long time. I started to tell myself not to screw this one up, even though so far I only see her as a good friend, I wanted a lasting friendship. As insecure as I was, I yello barwas afraid of getting too close. I got to my apartment, hoping that my conceded roommate was up so I can show off what a great and beautiful friend I have made. But he was locked in his room, along with his physically-looking-challenged duo… his ugly girlfriend. Without hesitation, I abruptly grabbed my iPod and quickly started my path back to the bar to enjoy every lasting moment.

As I entered and sat, she was talking to one of the locals but noticing my presence at the glance of her eye. I went to the bathroom to distract my attention for her. I was never fond of these locals. They all seemed so full of themselves thinking they can pick up any girl they want, when in fact they all bunch of fucking ugly midgets and acted like bunch of drunken fools. My conclusion of the way they were was that they have money, which Whitney informed me earlier that one of them was the owner of the bar. A real conceded bastard, I recalled her saying. I then came back sitting, acting nonchalant, as if nothing else matters. She looked at me again from the corner of her eye as the locals kept trying to get her attention, and later came up to me excitingly to grab my iPOd.

“It won’t work.” She said with despair. “The hole is too small.”
“Really?” I said, “That sucks.”
“Wait! Let me try again, I think it’ll work.”

She plugged it in and her favorite song of Maroon5’s Makes Me Wonder began to play again.
“You love this song!” I shouted through the loud music.
“Me too!” she cried, thinking that I said I love this song.

We then chat up some more, discussing utterance that brought our hearts closer. A compilation of Maroon 5 I had on my iPOd excited her mundane night at the usually slow bar.

“You can change the song if you want.” I shouted, thinking that dominance is what attracts the opposite sex. She then searched through my song selection and began to play Jet. What A great choice! I thought, as I began to enjoy the night and her obedient personality even further.

Maroon5The song reminded her of her prom, which made me realized underneath her independent bravado was the young girl who was still in school. Perhaps native New Yorkers are born to be “individuals” who are witty and smart, but her personality reminded me of a Jersey girl I used to know. It seemed as if we knew each other more than the chit-chat that we had. I wondered deeply what this attraction really was, whether it was love or friendship, as I had been very confused about my emotions lately. But I soon left that thought behind, realizing she wasn’t going to be around the neighborhood anymore longer, I focused on the fun we had. The night drifted into euphoria, where we both enjoyed each other’s company and musical selection. When I told her it was getting a bit late and I should go soon, she gave me the sad puppy face that made me said “I’ll stay for five minutes more.”

She deliberately played more than a song, to keep her night more entertaining for the long hours she had to suffer, or perhaps it was our mutual connection. As the other locals called for her assistance, I thought to myself that being a challenge will keep her wanting more. So I decided to call it quits when she gets back. Soon after, as she stepped behind the counter waiting for more interesting conversation to fill her lonely night, I told her I have to go.

“I really should get going; I still have to work tomorrow.” I said.
“Alright,” she said with a tap despair, knowing that she kept me a bit longer than she should, “nice to meet you, and goodbye Tony!”
“Goodbye Whitney!”

As I utter those last words, I wondered whether I should’ve gotten her number. I do have her new address for the bar that she written on a piece of paper, but wanting nothing more than a friendship at the moment, I said the goodbye that ended our conversation. After all, I’ll probably run into her whenever.

I walked out of the bar, but felt a presence of something was missing, or perhaps something I forgot to do. I could sense it in her eyes that wondered why I had just left. I continued to walk, with the smile and anxiety that triggered my thoughts. She was tall, beautiful, with a well-built figure attracted every guy from the bar. I should’ve gotten her number, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.

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