Friday night, the
work week over and time to have some fun. He looked in the mirror remembering
the good old days when leaving work early on Friday meant a good seat at the bar.
There was free food and drink specials up until the band started then dig deep.
Girls always dressed differently on Fridays changing from proper work attire to
something a bit more feminine which was always something to look forward to.
Who would have known Mary from accounting had such great legs? People got
wasted and the crowd thinned out except for us die-hard drinkers and legends in
our own minds.
We drank shots and beers until the bartender cut us off trying to save his job.
Now a group of us would stumble a few blocks to another bar that could best be
described as a bucket of blood. Walking in you were greeted with the smell of
old puke and spilled beer. The bartender looked like he drank a shot for everyone
he served, and if you had money, you drank until you either passed out or were
carried out by one of your drinking companions. The pool tables were in rough
shape with torn felt, burn marks from all the cigarettes placed on the rail
while you were trying in your drunken stupor to make a shot. No band in this
joint just an old jukebox filled with songs like "Born to be wild",
"Call me Superman", "satisfaction" and others that kept the
place rocking as
barely dressed girls rocking it out on top of the bar. Now if you were hardcore
you would leave that place at closing time and make your way to the after-hours
club on the other side of town. Here you had your own bottle behind the bar and
you bought it every week to be sure it would be there when needed. All you had
to do is buy your mixers if you wanted any. The party went on until six in the
morning when everybody was escorted out the door that slammed closed behind
them. Yep, happy hour Friday was really something back then at least from what
I remember.
This Friday he was heading to the local bar within walking distance of his
house because they had the best fish fry in the whole darn city. www.facebook.com/mikeoconnor-author
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