I decided to watch the Jets game at a local pub. Dollar drafts and 25cent wings enticed me to leave the confines of my apartment. But, since none of my friends really give quite a damn about the Jets, I couldn’t convince anybody to tag along for more than twenty or so minutes. So I sat there and worked up a healthy stack of napkins, watching the game. I don’t even remember how I started talking to this severely displeased waitress. She didn’t like football, and more so, she didn’t like waiting tables during the football game. Mostly because the bar was more crowded than the restaurant and she would still have to give part of her tips to the Bartender, not vice-versa.
She said the light at the end of the tunnel was coming though, as she was getting out as soon as her last table left. She kept coming by the bar to make small talk, while her table chatted and chatted. She smiled at me and told me that she was jealous and to grab her a beer. I smiled and said sure. When I saw her go into the kitchen, after her table had gone I had figured she would come back out. Ten minutes go by. Fifteen. Twenty….no sign of her. I ask her coworker if she was still there. He said she left, and I stared at the Killians I had ordered for her before quickly downing it and heading out of there.
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