At a Hole in the Wall Bar
It was Raining Hard
Saturday night was our big party night. To bad things just don’t work out like they are planned. It was St.Patricksday so lots of people were partying like us. We took the bus down town, where the sky was dropping bucketfuls of rain. The water was gushing down the streets, formed big puddles and rivers. Earlier in the night the street had been blocked off because there had been a band playing music, and there were lots of beer booths to keep people from being thirsty.
When we arrived the street party had been closed down, there was no more beer to buy out in the streets. So the crowds were now looking for a new place to party, a dry place. All the clubs and bars had long lines of people trying to enter. Bret found a little hole in the wall bar; we went in to check it out. It was a pretty sad place, looked like most of the elderly winos and alcoholics hung out there.
A woman in her sixties smiled big, about half of her front teeth were missing. But she was drunk having a good time; she posed for Bret to take her picture. There were some other women in there that life had not been kind to. They clung on to a microphone and sung karaoke like that would make everything in the world all right; it was an experience both painful to my eyes and ears. We only stayed for a few minutes.
Bret waved to a Taxi; the big night of partying was over. It was disappointing but surly we will make up for it sometime in the future. We went back home, drunk some more, played some games. Then we went to bed.
Engin ummæli:
Skrifa ummæli