I used to have a great relationship with business establishments serving alcoholic beverages for consumption on premises.
I used to have a great relationship with bars.
I've spent a great many hours on bar stools, sipping rocky scotches accompanied by chilled tequila shots. Mr Chivas Regal and Senor Cuervo were two of my best friends and we all got along fine. Later on I started including a smooth, single malt scotch, straight up, as sign off for the night.
Bartenders were my friends and I was their friend. Salute to you Africa. Groet Afrikaanse!! Easy going customer, knew my drinks, tipped well, got served well, never bothered anybody no matter how much alcohol Ι devoured -yes devoured.
I met most of my friends in bars. Alcohol is one unmistakable motherfucker of a character judge. It brings out who you really are. No matter how well you hide yourself, a few drinks later you will be all that you are. I never bought the "he was drunk so he had no control over what he was doing" excuse. Bullshit. I've had liters upon liters upon liters of booze. I never once, never behaved like an asshole. And that's how I chose and was chosen in a small circle of friends. We could drink ourselves into oblivion but we were always gentlemen in regards to our immediate environment. These friendships still hold even if we live in different countries and all went our separate ways.
These people, these few friends....these bars were my Christmases, my Easters , my Thanksgivings. A simple cheers would do. No fuzzy festivities, no empty smiles and meaningless jolliness. The so called unconditional happiness was not part of our world. There was no free grazing love in our pastures and we did not care for the old fat fart in red.
And yet, in our own unconventional way, we lived and breathed the spirit of the time. A time of putting into perspective things gone by and things to come. A time of renewing our respect for things respectful towards us and a time for rejuvenating our will and stamina to go forth and give it our all with one sole purpose ...Survival. That is what it was, Survival. The best years of our lives were harsh years of trying to survive in a country offering all opportunities to those willing to take them but at the same time so unforgiving. To the ears of most it sounds like an exaggeration, but those who know....know. Harsh times. Funny, I remember taking some exams in Cyprus and paying around six us dollars to have the results sent directly to my school. Well they weren't sent, so the examining board send me a refund check for six dollars. I remember when i was leaving for the States for the first time, i showed the check to a cousin of mine at the airport and he said "Man when you feel the need to cash this check..then it's time to pack your shit and head back home." Harsh times i tell you. I cannot begin to describe what a feast i had with those six dollars. And i did not pack my bags and i certainly did not head back. All in all, harsh times or not, i would not change those years for the world. Good times. Christmassy times.
I used to have a great relationship with bars.
I miss that.
Happy holidays everyone!
2 σχόλια:
Merry everything!!
:)
Δημοσίευση σχολίου