Bar fly

I’m at the Palomino Club with Judy, Cindy and Cindy’s girlfriend, Carmen. It’s my inaugural visit to the Pal. Judy’s connections got us on a list, so we walk in through the kitchen.

They were surprised when I said I wanted to come out with them. They’ve been planning it all week but I never really know what I’m going to feel up to doing on a Friday night so I don’t commit.

“You’re going to leave with a handful of phone numbers!” Cindy said on Friday afternoon.

“I’m going to buy you shots!” Carmen told me before we left. I was being awkward and shy for some reason. People always want to fix me by feeding me alcohol. It bugs me.

We stake out some bar stools in the back end. I love watching Judy talk to random guys. "Do you know him?" I ask every time. She doesn't. It's hard to believe she was nervous about the date she had earlier that day.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Cindy says to me after we’ve hung out for a bit.

“Where?”

“Just around. You know, so guys can check you out.”

Oh. Right.

“You have to walk slowly, and bop to the music.”

I lead the way but soon feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Cindy.

“Slower!”

I feel weird. I’m not really into the whole point of the mission but I make an effort to look around and make eye contact. I catch one guy looking so I smile back but keep moving. Again, a tap.

“Didn’t you see that guy? He was totally checking you out!”

“I know, I saw!” I nod with enthusiasm but continue my way to the front. I don’t remember how it happened now, if Cindy co-ordinated it or if I just walked into it on my own, but suddenly I am talking to a short blond guy. He has a drink in hand and looks like something you’d catch on spring break in Florida. I am pleasantly surprised and go along with it.

“I’m Ryan,” he says.

“Hi, I’m Jill.”

He is there with friends. It is his second bar of the night. He had just come from The O.C. (not California, but the Off Campus bar in the south end, near the university. Definitely spring break type.) I might have been more interested if he wasn’t already hammered.

Cindy is on the floor dancing the boot scoot. We watch. I used to know the steps. Ryan makes motions like he is trying to show me. I can’t catch what he is saying exactly though because of the music and his alcohol-induced speech impediment.

And because the country songs always come in pairs, the Boot Scoot is aptly followed by the instantly recognizable sound of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Fishin’ In the Dark. I actually like that one. Every time I hear it I think of my old friend Michael Maryk and his loud clapping. I’m 18 again, singing along with my friends, but with better hair.

You want to dance? Ryan asks. I think to myself, why not? This is what I came for.

So I do my own little Jillish version of two-stepping but Ryan just kind of rocks back and forth and stares at me. Some guys are better dancers with a few drinks in them. Evidently, some are not.

After the song Ryan asks if I’d like a drink, so I follow him up to the bar and order a dark rum and coke.

“Dark rum eh? That’s awesome. I’m just drinking rye and seven,” he says.

“You want a shot?” He asks.

“No, that’s okay, I’m good with this, thanks.” But he’s already ordered two dirty hookers, or whatever those common pink things are. It goes down like Kool-aid.

We move off to the side to chat. He’s 25 and working as a plumber, which I admire, actually. I tell him if I could do it over again I’d take a trade. He’s from the country but moved to the city when he was 16. He’s working on starting up his own business with a friend and spent his summer working on his uncle’s farm. He spits a bit as we talk and he has a nervous laugh. I think he could be interesting in another place and time. He really likes my hair.

“It looks really good. Not many people can rock the short hair thing,” he says. “But you look great. You’re the only girl here who can do it.”

They’re playing rock again. I think I recognize the song as Fire Woman, but it’s actually She Sells Sanctuary. I’m really disappointed in myself. I should know better.

“You want to go dance?” He asks. I lead the way. On the dance floor he wants to get closer and I tolerate it a bit. At the time I am thinking that I owe him something for buying me a drink and a shot, but that’s just stupid. This isn’t my thing. This isn’t my place. This isn’t my guy. I’m not about to tear down my defenses to make others feel more comfortable.

At the end of the song I excuse myself to go "look for my friends". I end up bumping into Terry, my pizza guy. He's been our waiter for as long as I can remember at this little Italian restaurant my family has been going to for years. At one time I had a school-girl crush on him. He recognizes me instantly and I feel warm, like I've been hugged.

Cindy and Carmen are ready to go. Some guys have been acting like jerks towards them. I'm a bit disappointed because I've just spotted a guy whose hat I'd like to try on, if I could only get to him. I'm finally feeling into it, but now it's too late.

We cap the night off with some McDonald's. I get the small fries and an orange drink. It looks like half of a Happy Meal, minus the toy. Cindy, Judy and Carmen are talking into their cups and giggling, but I feel awkward and weird again. I'm 18 again, but with better hair.