People-watching is one of my favorite bar activities.
Two Saturday nights ago, I sat at one of Allston’s busier college bars. I had gone in early, and planned on leaving when the co-eds starting piling in. The DJ hadn’t even started, so I thought I had some time before amateur hour began. I was wrong.
Sitting across from my friends and I was a very drunk gentleman and his two cohorts. He was red-faced and wobbly, yet somehow still standing and able to order three shots of Fireball for himself and his companions. I thought that was a splendid idea, so I ordered three more for my two friends and myself. The trio took their shots, and the intoxicated gentleman in the middle apparently found it to be a struggle. He coughed and twitched. And then I saw it.
A foot-long bright red Fireball booger erupted from his right nostril. His friends looked on, as we did, exchanging horrified looks back and forth until at last the drunk guy grabbed a bar rag and wiped his schnoz. The unsuspecting bartender chose just then to make her rounds and tend to her duties. She saw her bar rag (the one that was just used as a handkerchief), grabbed it, and proceeded to wipe up unaware that it had just been soiled.
The words died in my throat as I tried to alert her to what was afoot. I couldn’t even get out a meek warning. By the time I could get it out, it it was too late.
And time for the check.
