At this one bar I went to, up in the Irish and Irish-American and Italian-American neighborhood toward the major airport in the city, there was this bar that was a few doors down from an Italian restaurant (which also had a small lounge in it), and had the same name as the restaurant.
I went it, and it was all these old (white) men sitting there drinking $1.25 drafts, and a History Channel show about collecting motorcycle memorabilia was on tv.
The bartender, though, was this (slavic) woman in her 40s, with a worn, wise-looking, soft, very pale face, and these dark curls wrapping down around it, and this sweeping gray sweater that had a billowing waist and sleeves, and she would go up and down the bar being very open and emotionally sympathetic with everyone, and making sure to greet everyone who came in the door and say bye to everyone who went out, even if she was right in the middle of something.
I didn’t talk with her much, but I just watched her, and I caught bits of a conversation she had with this old man about destiny and the nature of love, and how if he loves a woman and pursues her and it works out, that is destiny, but if he pursues her and it doesn’t work out, that too is destiny.
At some point, a young (white) man came in the bar to talk to her, and after he left, she told the guy that he had been a worker at the restaurant and fallen in love, but both parents opposed to the match and the girl ended everything, but now he finally has found someone new, and married her, and would be bringing her in the bar.
At some point in some context she also mentioned someone trying to commit suicide, but I don’t remember what that was about.
She called out this very genuine farewell to me as I left the bathroom and went to slip out of the bar.
1 comment:
Now that is a great bartender.
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