Not the geopolitical maneuvering that gave us armistice, but my post-film experience today.
Went to the show with a friend and he, uncharacteristically, suggested a beer and/or bite afterwards. We crossed the mall-sprawl to sit at the bar at World of Beer. We each ordered a beer and I clocked the guy seated to my right for a weirdo: long sleeved, paisley button-down in late July with sunglasses on at the bar.
No big deal, he isn't talking and we aren't seeking his conversation; live and let live.
My buddy gets a text and says, "My wife is driving by, I'm going to hop in the car with her and save you the dropoff." Excellent, I tell him. I'm always happy to be relieved of a chore. Not that spending time with my friend is a chore, but dropping him at his house is inconvenient at the very least.
I wave goodbye as my buddy jumps in his wife's car and signal for my tab. Then I hear a...gurgling...to my right. The weirdo has spewed a runny but fragrant mess across the bar. He thinks no one has noticed at this point and tries to mop it up with bev naps. I turn quickly to my left and pretend that I didn't see shit. I don't want to be involved...in the cleanup, the explanation or any of it, really.
Then I hear a Davey Hogan-esque rumble. Next he deposits a much more viscous load into the pint glass positioned in front of him. Extra fragrant, this load, but you had to respect his aim as most of this gush ended up not splashing off the bar.
By now, though, he has attracted the attention of the bartender, bar-back and most of the patrons in a twenty-foot radius. He's understandably embarrassed and tries to explain to the bartender that he's allergic to alcohol. The staff is helpful, giving him towels and mopping around him, and he's finally convinced to head to the men's room to wash up.
The bartender tells me that his allergy notwithstanding, our hero threw down four beers in about 10 minutes...and followed them with 8-10 Cokes. Pukey Brewster shows back up to his barstool and asks for some water, is denied, and enters a war of wills with the staff. The staff maintains that they can't serve him any beverage (water, cola, beer, etc) as it will only exacerbate the problem (I have no idea if that's true) and offer to call him a cab. He says he'll "wait." For what? You know...just "wait."
In the meantime, to their credit, management has offered all of us in the "spray zone" free lunch or a beer if we want. I'm too grossed out to eat and was going to leave, so I decline, but I appreciate the effort. After another 20 minutes, Weirdo pops off his seat and wanders onto the patio. Hopped the fence and he was gone. Management let the mall cops know to look out for him, but I don't know how his saga ended today.
This all went down between 2 and 2:30pm. On a Sunday.
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