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More Random Bar Encounters, and the Awesomest Thing Ever

July 6, 2010
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Next installment of the John Huston Retrospective is coming, but I’ve been on vacation, so here’s some classic posts.

From the files of Nat, Apr. 20, 2009.

My friend Stanks and I went to the Sail Inn in Traverse City, Michigan for dinner last night, after spending four hours at her new house watching her friend Ken try to fix the kitchen sink. He used a torch!

Even though it was Sunday and the bar was close to empty, the few people who were there were there with a vengeance:

Blasted Woman: [stumbling up to Stanks and me]  You have any requests? [holds out two one-dollar bills] I’m thinkin’ the Eagles or Steely…Damn or Chicago. By the way, hello and how are you?

Nat (me): Well, we’re…

BW: Well you watch it, because I’m on the [unintelligible]. Then again, I’m old enough to be your mother. Fuck, I may even be your mother. Hell-o! [kisses my hand then starts dancing?] You have the most [unintelligible] nose [kisses my goddamn nose].

Stanks: How’s it going?

BW: Honey, you gotta be a [unintelligible] believer. I, I, I, I been coming to this bar since I was…sixteen years old.

Stanks: Ooh, that’s a long time!

BW: [unintelligible--possibly a cuss word] !

Stanks: Ha ha!

BW: My Daddy. My Mother. It’s the one-year anniversary of her when she died. When I was sixteen my Daddy said, I said, he said to me, “Order a beer.” And I don’t…I fuckin’ hate beer, but he said, “Order a beer.” I don’t know what the fuck kind of beer it was. Hell-o! Now I drink rum. [more dancing?]

Stanks: Ooh, I bet you do. Hrn hrn.

BW: Let me tell you, my husband, when he left me…[what follows is an exceedingly long exposition in which Blasted Woman, in between periodic fits of dancing?, gives Stanks and me a complete rundown of her medical problems, love-life, including how she met her current husband...

BW: He was my brother-in-law's sister's fiancee...

...and complete medical history again, for good measure. She was aching to begin a new tangent when Sleazy Dude wandered up to the table--which regrettably gave Blasted Woman an excuse to move in closer to me and start groping my leg.]

Sleazy Dude: Hey, you all should try these chips [shoves half-eaten bag in my face]!

Nat: No thanks.

SD: No, come on! They’re great. These chips are not even on the market yet!

Nat: They’ve been rejected by the FDA…

SD [shoving the bag in BW's face]: Try ‘em!

BW [grabbing a handfull, she stuffs them violently into her mouth]: Mrr-uff the flavor?

SD: What these? Bloody Mary tomato! [shoves bag into Stanks's face] Try ‘em!

Stanks [takes a chip]: Mmm, tastes like barbecue.

SD: NO!!! They taste like tomatoes!!! [shoving the bag back into my face] Try ‘em! THEY TASTE LIKE TOMATOES!!!

Nat: No thanks.

SD: You gotta try one!

Nat: No.

BW: They’re fuckin’…ah ha ha–I’ve know this son of a bitch for thrity-five years…can you imagine?

The two of them wandered off for a while. Blasted Woman caterwauled for a longer while before stumbling back to our table. This time she lectured us on her family history, making a special point to dwell on the hardships of her grandfather, who was Hungarian and was fleeing the Nazis. Apparently he and his brother, who happened to be Nelson Riddle (despite the fact that Nelson Riddle was born in Jersey)…did something or landed somewhere on the East Coast and didn’t see each other again until 40 years later, when Riddle played with Linda Ronstadt in Detroit.

The details are a bit sketchy, but it was undoubtedly a probably very uplifting story.

In other news, I Googled the Coolest thing ever, and, evidently, it’s a jet pack:

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