Story 18 (part 2)

My first time bartending alone in the bar is pretty scary. While I have been here for years now, I have never been in this place. All looks different from this point of view. There is this odd freedom that comes with bartending in a busy nightclub. Being the nerd that I am, and I guess still the boy with low-self-esteem, it feels great to be in this place. It’s like a self-esteem booster. I instantly feel more attractive once I am behind the bar, in my cut-off shirt and for this reason I am beaming smiles today. It’s a Friday night, unlike any other that I have ever known. It is also during one of the busiest times of the year for the bar. It starts out slow, which I am easily able to handle. Since I have the new kid at school advantage, having barbacked there for so long, I also already know the rainbow of customers. Since I am working next to Aaron, it makes life easier for just this night.

I have spent the past 2 weeks memorizing every drink I could think of. I worked through about 40 drink cards with various cocktail and shot concoctions, just so that I would be ready. I made sure to learned not only what a Manhattan was, but that shaking it was called bruising it, and apparently a way to ruin the cocktail. I also learned entirely too many drinks with the words orgasm in their title. These drinks apparently died in the early 90s with grunge, but I would learn that later. I also learned how to properly make a Singapore sling and various layered shots.

As my first thirsty parton approaches me, I try to look cool. Me looking "cool" at this moment is the same look a little kid has when they crap their pants and think no one else is on to them. I am ready and anticipating a complicated drink that I will make for this guy with ease. It will look like I have been making them for years. The truth is, that I only know the ingredients and that’s it. Come to think of it this will be the first alcoholic beverage that I will have made outside of a college kegger. The man who approaches me, opens his mouth and for some reason everything seems to be coming out in slow motion. By this point, I already have beads of sweat on my forehead since I realize that I am not an experienced bartender and a horrible lier. He asks for a vodka cranberry. All of a sudden, I am put at ease because he has ordered such an easy drink. I am so confident that I will make him the best vodka cran that I try to pick up the bottle with flare. I toss the bottle in the air just slightly, so that I can catch it upside-down to pour the booze required. The bottle is slipperier than anticipated, it of course gets into my grasp and slips from my little hands. The bottle falls on the ground, spills on my shoe and all over the floor. The bottle has not broken though. While I am horrified at what is unraveling in front of my eyes, I feel a laugh coming on. As the confused customer is now staring at me pissed off, not amused and checking their cell phone, I just start laughing really loud, smile, give a wink and tell the poor dope that he made me nervous. He seems shocked. The poor sap is eating it up. This is when I realize the obvious, that this job is not as hard as I am making it. Now one should ever take them-selves too seriously.

Luckily I have Aaron working next to me. He is on fire tonight and probably higher than I have ever seen him. I am amazed at how resilient he is. Every few minutes when there is a lull he pulls me aside and tells me about the new little furry bear man he is dating for the day. He then tells me about how he hasn’t slept in the past 3 days, has fabulous sex the night before and had just gotten back from a trip to New York where he partied with famous DJs like Cozwell. Getting caught up in his extravaganza of a life makes it easier for me to just let go and not take myself so seriously. Aaron has an interesting way of exaggerating in his stories that entertains and puts me at ease. After listening to one of his stories about his cub-man lover from nights prior, I turn back to my bartending station to a wall of people literally. I almost shit myself. All of a sudden I feel like I have to pee. I have been fine all night, but now I have to pee. It’s a nervous tick I have always had. Interviews, tests, long road trips, while I can make it a near day without peeing, the second I get in a pressure-filled situation, the bladder decides to hate on me. I know that I can’t leave now, because if there is a time to pay my rent, now is the time. I cork it. In my head I had imagined tonight to be so simple and unravel as such. I assume that I will have people throwing money my way simply. I would will have beautiful men fawning over and waiting for me. I will look amazing shaking shots, doing tricks with the bottles… That’s kind of how the night seems to be working out, minus the spilled vodka bottle and the 10 or 15 broken glasses due to my clumsiness. It’s fine until my station is insanely packed with people. I spill one drink on a customer. I tried to look cool while making shots for a round of girls and then I can’t get the pint glass out of the metal shaker cause I had put it on too tight. Then I continue to accidentally break the pint glass with little shards of glass sprinkling into the shot glasses. The poor girls looked horrified. Then a few minutes later I spill a pint of beer on a customer as I slip walking over to them. After that, I made a martini and accidentally break the martini glass stem as I am filling the glass. Essentially, the night closes with my back and arms in pain as though I just finished some aerobics class. I am also drenched with beer, wine, and a few hints of whiskey. The smell reminds me the white trash memories I left behind in East County San Diego.

It has truly turned into a classy night. From cosmos to lemon drops, I make everything that night. Most of them are made incorrectly, but that is the least of my problems. After an hour or two I felt at eeze, while still clumsy I learned that playing dumb worked in my favor. Turning a blind eye to my mistakes I make and just try to make it look like I am having fun. Aaron sees that I am having a stressful night, so being the big brother-type that he has to me, he hands me a cookie. Starving and stressed out I took a bite of his magical cookie, not realizing that I will be reeling from it’s mystical powers sooner than predicted.

Next predicament of the night to get through… Now that I have made it through a night of drink slinggin, I need to count my tip money. I have piles of wet one-dollar bills, quarters and stuff to organize and then get someone else’s register counted and balanced. I am too messed up by this point. It’s too late to save me. I am trying to keep my magical cookie predicament under wraps and focus on the job at hand. I am counting this money now for the fifth time and still things aren’t balancing out. Now Aaron looks over at me to see what’s taking me so long. He looks like he has seen a ghost.
Aaron quickly whispers, “that cookie has hit you hard girl… You should go.”

Aaron out of all people says that. If that’s the case, then I must be messed up. The night ends with me hopping into a cab, red-eyed, with hagen-daz in one hand and cab fare in the other.