The Drunkard and the Patron

“I’m so drunk,” the drunkard finally said.

He had downed his fifth whiskey on the rocks and had been rambling about something ever since the third. Most people ignored him. Others occasionally nodded their heads, pretending to listen. It was the only way they could relieve themselves of the pain of listening to some kid who turned 21 the other day, and finally discovered that he can walk into a bar and order as many drinks possible.

“Let me tell you,” the newbie guy kept saying. “Let me tell you. Let me tell you. Let me tell you.”

“What?” a disinterested bar patron said, staring at his own bottle of Corona.

“I’m drunk.” the drunkard continued.

“No kidding.” the patron said, barely able to contain his annoyance with the drunkard’s rambling.

The patron had other things on his mind. He was lonely and drinking alone to forget the notion that he was alone. Every swig drowned out that pain. But this drunkard was testing his ability to concentrate on his own remedy.

“You know something,” the newbie drunkard rambled. “I think. I think. I think.”

Either way, the patron didn’t like what he was thinking. He didn’t like what he was hearing from the rambling youth next to him.

“I think what?” the patron said, grabbing the sports section of a newspaper just to look like he was busy doing something than listening to the drunkard.

“I think I’m going to have another.” the drunkard said. “I think I’m going to have another because I’m so fucking drunk.”

The patron thought, was I ever an asshole like that?. Did I ever act like this when I walked into a bar and drank to my heart's content? Either way, the patron didn’t like what he was thinking to himself.

He didn’t like what he was hearing from the rambling youth next to him.

“Yup!” The drunkard yelled. “I’m drunk alright. Fuckin’ drunk as hell!”

The patron’s stomach was beginning to churn. It had nothing to do with two Coronas he had downed within an hour of walking into the bar.

He let the newspaper fall from his hand. He began to think about his life to this point. Ten years ago, he started to come to bars. He drank to heaven’s content everything that a bar could offer.

In that time, he had lost his driver’s license. DUI was something he could never truly avoid. He lost contact with his parents. They didn’t want a stinking drunk in their house. He lost his job due to too many hangovers. He lost his girl and his kid. They left him the other day.

Now, he was losing his patience with the loud mouth drunkard next to him. This drunkard was discovering his interests in alcohol and was letting the entire world know about it. And it reminded him of the biggest mistake he made when he was his age.

The drunkard ordered a sixth shot of whiskey.

Does he know what he’s getting into? The patron thought. Does he have any clue what he’s going to do to himself? Does he have any clue what his future is going to be like?

The drunkard ordered a sixth shot of whiskey. The waitress placed it in front of him.

The patron watched. An impulse came to him. Before the drunkard could grab the shot and slam it into his mouth. The patron grabbed it and downed it.

“What the hell?” the drunkard whined.

“Shut the fuck up!” the patron snapped back. “In fact, get the fuck out of here and never come back! If you know what’s good for.”

The drunkard was searching for words. He fumbled and muttered.

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll kick the living shit out of you!” the patron replied as he stood up from his bar stool and faced the drunkard directly.

The drunkard took one look at him. He tried to focus but couldn’t do so. All he knew was that the patron no small dude.

The drunkard slowly rose from his bar-stool, staring dumbfounded at the threatening patron before him. Then he stepped back.

“You.....You....You’re fucked up, man.” the drunkard managed to mumble.

“Yeah, well so are you.” the patron replied. “Here’s to your future.”

It wasn’t a threat that the patron was giving him. It was him, standing disheveled with deep crevices across his weathered face. He may have been a brawny man in the past, but now he was a slop.

The drunkard stood, and looked him over. It was as if, the sobered up at that precise moment. The personification of bad decision can do that to you.

The patron was wondering what his next move would be. He ruminated for a moment. Was this going to turn ugly?

Dammit, he thought. I didn’t want to go there. I just wanted this fool to learn something. He knew he’d have to quell this situation. He may be drunk, himself, but he still had enough sense to reverse a problem.

The patron fished through his pocket and pulled out a few bills. He slapped them down on the bar as a payment for the sixth whiskey. Afterward, he sank back into his bar-stool.

The bartender, a pretty twenty-something brunette, stared aghast at him for a moment before saying something.

“You gonna need a cab?”

The patron glanced at the beauty behind the bar for a moment. Then, he glanced at the emptied shot glass and the half-finished bottle of Corona before him.

“You know something?” he said softly, “I think I’ll close out now. Go ahead and call a cab.”

The patron found some peace, but it didn't last long. He could feel the glare of the drunkard behind him. He turned and glanced at the confused drunk.

“You know something,” the patron said to the bartender. “get him a cab, too. I’ll pay for it. It’s the least I can do for scaring away a new customer.”

He glanced at him one last time. He didn’t appear to be protesting. Good, he thought. Maybe I gave him a chance to make a better decision than I did.

The Patron paid his tab in the process. The drinks just weren't hitting the way they used to.