Monday, January 16, 2006

Game 4 - His taste in women was...

His taste in women was just like his taste in wine. He drank it all, but he preferred beer. Not like he was "playing for the other team", you know, it's just he really preferred beer to anything else, including women.

He spent every evening at a tiny corner gas-station turned a watering hole. This place was so dingy, it deserved to be visited by him. It used to be a tiny two-pump gas station back in the days. At some point it quietly went out of business just as the neighborhood was turning into a slum where not that many people owned cars. Those that did oftentimes left the pump in a hurry without paying. Those that didn't either ignored a tiny convenience store inside or tried to rob it. And so the gas station was shut down and abandoned.

Some time later, new owners filled the front window with bricks, put bars on a tiny side window, painted the building white, put a row of bar stools inside and a picnic bench outside and hung strings of Christmas lights throughout. The no-name bar was open for business ever since. It had no parking lot and most regulars walked to it. Nor did it have a restroom which did not unfase same regulars in the slightest. A tattered menu in a greasy plastic case listed grilled cheese sandwiches, hamburgers and hotdogs as its only offerings. Friday night special was unlimited potato chips. The rest of the time it was peanuts for snacks. Bottles of ketchup and tiny yellow-green hot peppers crowded the bar.

He would come here every night, order a hamburger du jour smothered in a yellow-white mix of mustard and mayo and with a side of pickle straight from a 7-11 across the street. Or if he felt a bit adventurous, he would get a cold hotdog on a rather stale bun and sprinkle some relish on it. Invariably, he would ask for a Bud. And then another one. And another one. And so he ate his food and drank his beer and tried to make out what was said on a tiny 13-inch TV in the far corner. If there happened to be a woman, single and looking, next to him, he would strike up a conversation. Sometimes it ended up with him picking up just a tab, other times - with him picking up the gal as well. Neither one happened very often for this bar was not made to satisfy womansfolk tastes. But he never complained or tried to find a livelier place. He liked his women, but he really preferred beer.