Saturday I work a double – hostess the brunch shift then train on the floor with Courtney at night. Courtney is an animal. She’s a good server and she gets shit done. Kind of reminds me of how I would be if I were training someone. It’s somewhat unexpected since I haven’t seen this much work ethic in California yet. We get cut fairly early since Courtney worked a double. Bennette asks me what I’m doing tonight and suggests we get a drink after work. Obviously.
When I get done, she’s sitting at a table with Lindsey’s boyfriend, Ryan. Lindsey is the other Lindsey server. Our names have finally been changed in the computer so it’s Lindsey and Stets. I’m having a lot of fun introducing myself as Stets. Way cooler name. So her boyfriend is hammered. Bennette tells me to sit. I see her with a drink in front of her. She plays it off as a “beverage,” but gives me the wink that we can hang out here for a drink first. Well in that case.
I ask Juan to give me a glass of Chardonnay. He fills me right up. I’m feeling the love. Bennette is in a heated conversation with Ryan about… something he only knows. Brian, my boss and manager, passes us and stops. He takes my glass of wine and Bennette’s pint glass away. Hey! I’m off the clock. Can’t tell if he’s messing with us. Bennette assures me he is. “He better be. And he better bring them back over. Don’t get up.” Brian comes back with the drinks. Puts my wine glass down. Smells Bennette’s drink; takes a sip. Oh no. He tastes it. Shit. Not good. Shakes his head. Bennette can’t tell if he’s really mad or not. “Shit.” It’s OK. “It’s not OK, I don’t want to lose my job.” Lindsey walks up, as if on cue. “I told him it was mine. He asked me what I was drinking. Was it a Jameson and ginger? I said yes. He’s like, you can keep it over here (by the bar) if you want. I can’t have that in front of a minor. I was like, I’m sorry, I figured I’d keep it next to my boyfriend.” Lindsey, I’m impressed. She was all over defending Bennette. In the next breath, after we’ve just escaped getting in trouble, she asks, ” You guys want shots? Jameson?” Bennette doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Bennette starts talking to someone else as I strike up a conversation with Ryan. He’s a mess. He used to work here, but doesn’t now. So Ryan, what do you do now? “Nothing.” Nothing? He shakes his head yes and smiles. “I did it.” You did it? “Yup.” He’s almost laughing now. You did what? He just keeps shaking his head yes. Unemployment? “Yup! I did it! I can’t believe I did it. But I did.” I am really getting a kick out of this kid.
Bennette and I walk across the street to The Galley. It’s all ship-themed and there are Christmas lights everywhere. Naturally, I love it. She gets carded at the door and I’m nervous for her, but she is little miss confidence. I’m pretty sure it’s the owner who greets us – an older man with gray hair. Not even joking, I think he goes by Captain Ron. “How old are you?” Bennette – “Excuse me?” “How old are you?” “Oh, 24.” She says it likes she’s surprised he’s asking. And she’s right; her license says she was born in 1988. Then he looks at my license. “How old are you?” 1984. “I asked how old are you?” Oh, I’m 28! Wow, I just got nervous and I’m almost 30. What is wrong with me.
We sit in a booth so we can hear each other and chat it up. I order red wine – Bennette orders a Stella and a shot of Jameson. Maybe she really is 24… We have two rounds and talk mostly about our families. It’s a real get-to-know-each-other session. When The Galley closes, we head back to Brick+Mortar. This is when I should have gotten on my bike and went home, but no. We’re closed but the bartenders are all cleaning up and/or drinking. I sit next to Juan at the bar. We talk for a minute. I look away, and when I look back, there’s a shot in front of me. Hey! What’s that? “That’s for you.” Well where’s yours? “I already drank it.” OK then, and I take a shot of tequila. I’m done. It’s time to go home. Bye everyone! I bike home faster than ever. I don’t know why.
The next day Mike is awake early watching football. I can’t move. I’m hungover and exhausted and I have a field hockey game at 1:30. Oh my God, I had three glasses of wine and one shot of tequila. That’s not even that much! Should not have taken that shot. I just kept thinking, my game isn’t until 1:30. I’ll get to sleep in. I’ll be fine. Wrong. I basically wake up, get ready, and leave, because it takes me that long. It’s “Carmageddon” this weekend. Cheesy, I know, but that’s what they’re really calling it. The 405 is shut down. Everyone uses the 405. It’s a highway. I know, weird, there’s a “the” before it. I don’t say I’m driving down the 295. What is the “the” for? But that’s how they say it here.
I’m hung over but feel a little better by the time I reach the field. We have a lot of subs today- thank God. We win – the other team had no subs and no goalie, so nothing to brag about. And I scored a goal. Again, nothing to brag about, but I’ll mention it, anyway.