Bartender Vision pt 2 "blame it on the alcohol?"

*** mind drifts back to early days at the new spot***

Twas a crowded Wednesday at the bar. The DJ was playing all my favorite reggae songs, and even threw in a couple old school west coast jams like "I got 5 on it". I noticed a patron enter wearing some grey leggings, and triangle top bikini under a red cropped jacket. She was on the heavier side but who cares? She is GETTIN it on the dance floor and she orders two zombies (in the best DC accent you can imagine) from me and tips well.

The night progresses, the bar gets so busy I don't even notice that It's Last Call. We stop selling liquor, the lights come on and the DJ is playing the last couple of songs. The zombie loving patron is still on the dance floor getting, only now that some space has been cleared by exiting revelers, she has begun somersaulting (read: forward roll) back and forth across the floor which I am sure is now littered with napkins and spilled drinks.

At our spot, we don't usually don't end the night with slow songs like you might find at hip hop or top 40 clubs, so you're going to hear a lot of soca and dancehall from the height of the evening til the end. Well the zombie loving patron ups the ante and starts p-poppin in a hand stand...or better yet, a headstand. Then she tucked out of the headstand, and somersaulted across the floor only to stand up and resume wine-ing. It was a sight to behold ... by this time I could see her cheap cotton thong poking from the top of her gray leggings. And when she stood up and collected herself when the music finally turned off, you could also see her nipplets had slipped from out of her triangle top from all of the turbulence. eck! And yes, I saw it all and instantly named her the nekked contortionist.

While I haven't seen her nipples since (thank GAWD!) there has only been one time that she has not been rolling on the floor by the end of the night. and she comes at LEAST a couple times a week. All she drinks is zombies and shots of 1738. every now and again I can get her to try long island concoctions...but she don't want nothing that ain't strong. I figure if she wears, cut up leggings and a crop top in the dead of winter, I can only imagine what she does or doesn't wear in the summer...I'm not so sure I want to know but I'll find out soon enough.

The other thing I been thinking bout as of late...I wonder what she does for a living? It's not like she's a young college student acting reckless at the club...she's at least in her late 20s or early 30s and she always comes by herself...so I just wonder what is she like before or after she leaves the club? hmmmn

After all the tabs are closed and everyone has left, I clean up for the night. Many of the regulars are my bosses friends, or long time associates. One in particular offers me a ride home. He seems nice and genuine I guess, but I don't get in cars with people I don't know. Hell! I don't get in cars with a lot of the people I DO know, but I digress. I politely decline. he doesnt seem to wanna take no for an answer. I get a ride home from the other bartender, he offers to follow us. I vehemently reject his offer. Part of othe point of me not getting in his car is I don't want people knowing where I live, in case you are a stalker, the other point is to not end up in a ditch somewhere... Day one, Victory: ESS

That saturday, some of the staff (meaning DJ, bartenders, owner, buddies) decide to go to breakfast after work. To Infinity and beyond (TINB) tags along. He bores a hole through my neck with his eyes over breakfast, and I ask the other bartender if this guy is crazy weird...via text of course and she says, once he latches, he doesn't let go. I get the message.

Luckily the DJ, with whom I have a rapport, is going to his girlfriend's house, who lives in my direction, so I quickly jump on his offer to give me a ride home. TINB looks angry, like OJ angry and I'm glad I got away... The DJ and I laugh, I live to bartend another day.

The following week, the staff decides to skip breakfast and just go home, so the DJ does not stick around but TINB certainly does. I text him to let him know the stalker is upon me and he laughs. He tells me that's what I get for wearing leggings and names me vodoo booty!

What a twist of fate! I'm the one who is constantly doling out monikers, and here I have been named...