Bars: downtown, my neighborhood.

Last night I met a friend for chili at my favorite bar downtown. Patrice was talking to some guys at the table behind us who were saying they were from a foreign country but not really, and though they meant and did eventually say they were from Canada, Patrice was like, "Oh, and I thought you guys were from Texas!"

Patrice also convinced me to have a brandy-and-water with lemon for my cold. She filled a coffee cup a third with water, and then she took a wide-mouthed brandy bottle and just held it over the coffee cup till it filled it up to the top with brandy, at least six or seven shots. The brandy was just flowing out into the mug, and then she threw just this little itty-bitty lemon in. I've never seen anyone pour like that in my life. I was feeling pretty good afterwards. In fact, the black girl sitting next to me on the bus on the way home, who it turns out loves the original and musical movies of Hairspray, though she doesn't like how they took out the sexiness from the dancing in the musical, told me that I better not throw up on her pants from all that brandy.

Also, I found out that the bartender at the black neighborhood bar near my house keeps a baseball bat under the counter.