Walking the Line

~This post is rated 'R'

I am capping off the weekend with a couple midori sours at a favorite neighborhood bar that throws back to 1970s swank. They have literal "lounge singers" on weekend nights and I nurse my two drinks for the one-hour show. The bar buzzes with weekend warriors and the desire to postpone Monday morning is nearly palpable.

The bar sits on the corner of a busy street lined with restaurants, shops and yet more bars. We meander outside after the last song, "Viva Las Vegas" performed in true Elvis style. It's past 11:30 p.m. and still the street hums with activity. Groups of friends congregate near bar entrances, lingering before goodbyes. Couples stroll past holding hands, or not; perhaps good dates and bad ones.

A small crowd exits our bar with us, a few still clapping for Elvis. The crowd's energy buzzes. Someone yells, "Let's drive to Vegas!". Laughter, claps, some whoots. We pile out the door and loiter for a moment. Little chimneys light up everywhere as people hit their nicotine. The air's too smokey and I pull my boyfriend to go.

A police car flashing blue and red strobe lights behind a big black SUV slowly crosses the intersection across the street. The SUV stops in the middle of the road, just beyond the far crosswalk. A few people laugh. More look over, drawn by the lights. The police officer booms on his p.a. system:

"Driver, advance your vehicle slowly and pull over to the right side of the road. Do it now."

The tinted driver's side window rolls down. An arm waves back and forth. Conversation hushes in my bar crowd. Someone laughs. Another says, "Oh my god! Dumbass!". The officer speaks again:

"Driver, put your arm inside the vehicle. Advance your vehicle slowly and pull over to the right side of the road. This is your last warning. Do it now."

"He probably speaks Spanish!" someone says. "Hey no habla Ingles, amigo?" More laughs. The SUV begins crawling forward and slowly pulls over, police car following. Both vehicles are still against the curb. A bigger crowd has gathered around us, watching the scene unfold across the street. Moments later, a second police car arrives and all four officers approach the SUV, two go to either side of the front, one approaches the back but keeps a distance and the fourth remains close to the open driver's door of the first police car.

More hollers in jest from the bar crowd. The fourth officer looks over and yells to be quiet, please. The officer near the driver's door has his hand on his holster. The driver has lowered his window. The officer talks and motions for the driver to come out. He does. As he descends the high SUV, he topples back against it on one leg. A man in the crowd says, "Whoo yeah!"

The officer directs the driver to the pavement in between the SUV and the police car. He speaks again and demonstrates a finger to nose motion. The driver wobbles as he stands in one place. Arms out, he slowly brings one to his nose. I cannot see how close he comes. Before he tries the other arm, the officer points forward. The driver begins walking heal to toe. On the third step he leans way to the right, loses his balance and falls on his butt.

The bar crowd hoots and hollers. Some cheer and a few whistle. Suddenly, a female's voice rings out:

"Fuck you people! You think it's funny? It's not funny. Fuck you, you fuckin' drunk assholes! You better not kill anyone tonight."

So Many Beers, So Little Money

I am at the end of the cheese aisle, fingering aged cheddars. I hear conspiratorial talk in the next aisle, the refrigerated alcohol section. The voices are young males. Bottles clink. I drop my cheddar and roll around the corner, busy myself going through my coupon envelop.
The boys look newly 21. They are white, clean cut, dressed in jeans. One holds a jumbo bag of Tostitos tortilla chips, another a tub of guacamole and the third a big frozen pizza. With free hands, they browse the bottled beers:

Pizza: We've gotta get Corona. It's the beer you're supposed to have with chips and guac.
Chips: No way man. Corona's boring. And it's Mexican. We should get a German beer. Germans make the best beer.
Pizza: How do you know? You're not German.
Chips: Haven't you ever heard of Oktoberfest, you moron?
Guac: Oh yeah man! We're getting this one. Look - its got a skull on it! Ha ha! Whoooo!
Pizza: That's dumb. You don't buy a beer for the logo.
Guac: Oh like you've bought so much beer.
Pizza: Look, we only have $10 after food. We're definitely getting this one. It's two for $4.00 and look how big it is. It's 40 ounces!
Chips: Hey we can get four for $8.00, that's one extra!

All three smile in agreement. Two each take a 40 and the other balances two on the pizza box.

Take a Deep Breath: The Hookah Boys

I go to a hookah lounge around the corner sometimes. It's so easy to fade into relaxation and peel back stress on the hookah. It's also one of the absolute best people-watching places. Two male friends and I went directly after work. As we took drags of our mint flavored tobacco, two very young men walked in...

They are quite apprehensive, looking back and forth at each other and the dimly lit lounge. They're early 20s, clean-shaven and white. One is lanky and looks down more than the other, who is a bit round. He leans forward and runs his palms up and down his jeaned thighs. This is clearly the round one's idea. Thankfully, they sit in the alcove next to ours:

Lanky: Dude this is weird.

Round: I know but it's cool!

Lanky: What's cool about it?

Round: It's dark and it's all smelled up in here like fruit - like peach, like smokey peach! It's freakaaaay. It's cool!

Lanky: I'm staying a half hour and then I'm getting on (inaudible...name of a website?)

Round: Don't be a donk. Don't be a fuckin donkey, man. Girls think this stuff is hot. Eva Longoria likes it. She is smokin' hot man! She is asstastic! I like that word, asstastic.