When I saw this post show up in my Facebook feed today, it immediately reminded me of something that I experienced recently.
For more than 10 years, nearly every Wednesday night hubby and I have gone out to the same bar for wings and beer.
Typically, it's our 'date night' and it's just the two of us gazing lovingly into each other's eyes while swilling cold beer and gobbling hot wings.
Last week we had a couple of friends join us. They arrived before we did and snagged a table. As hubby and I arrived, I noticed them exchanging words with a young man at a nearby table. A young man who looked, oddly enough, much like the man in the post - with a thick scar etched across the top of his crown from ear to ear but without the massive dent.
"Who's this?", I asked our companions.
The guy looks at me and says, "You owe me a drink."
Him: "You owe two drinks."
Me: "Do I know you?"
Him: "You owe three drinks."
Him: "You owe four drinks."
I proceed to ignore the guy but clandestinely asked our bartendress to give him four shots - of water.
She delivers the "drinks" to his table and the guy says, "What's this." "You said I owed you four drinks." He was like, "Wow that's a lot. What is it? Vodka? Tequila? I really like tequila." So, I sat down at his table and said, "Here, I'll help your out with those."
Meanwhile, hubby and our friends are pissing their pants and falling off their chairs with laughter.
We clinked glasses and slammed down a "shot". Needless to say, he was gravely disappointed. "This is water!" "Yup!" I said, "Let's do the other one!!" So we clinked and drank.
To mitigate the guy's disappointment, I asked the bartender to bring us another round; this time tequila.
Okaaaay. The guy was clearly well on the way to an unhealthy state of intoxication. So keep on keepin' on doin' the same stuff that nearly got you killed.
Whatever, I'm not his keeper and he said he wasn't driving, so we did our shot of tequila. Then I returned to my table, and terminated contact.
A few minutes later he appears beside our table with a plate of half eaten wings - literally with a pile of bones on the plate - and said, "You can have these, I'm not going to eat any more." And he wobbled away.
Uhm . . . okaaaaaaaay.
He stumbled back a little while later, totally blitzed. He mumbled some nonsense about I don't know what and wandered off into the night.
I know that *I* didn't drink enough with him to put him into that condition. But I suspect he earned that wicked scar on his head.
The moral of this little tale . . . listen to your mama and don't talk to strangers. Seriously. Just don't do it. Ever!!