I should probably explain the rubber ducky.
The waitress at the bar and I quack at each other instead of conversing. Only quacks of endearments of course.
By the time I get out of the bodegona the street is filled with people, venders, and people who stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
In tow I have a bag of three rubber ducks and Hershey kisses (along with the everyday essentials; switchblade; pack of cigarettes; lighter; sunglasses; favorite pen; card to my neighborhood; keys to the shared car; phone; enough money for four rums).
Get to work and it's nothing too unusual. The manager and owner of the bar are there along with the waitress setting up. Nothing too unusual; however, Thursday was special. We were allowed to stay open until six in the morning. This is one out of three days a year we are allowed to be open so late.
My manager says he is going to pace himself, but like how I tell myself I'm not going to drink while working, it didn't go that way.
After midnight, I have to kick him out from the bar. He helped me make drinks, which is okay, but he messes up two of them. I almost think it was on purpose because that meant he could drink them. He shoots whipped cream onto a customer. He's slurring his words. A regular, who was the owner of two other popular bars in town, tells me he's out of control. He accidentally hits my dear, dear waitress in the eye,. When I tell him to get out from behind the bar he resists. I have to physically push him out. Multiple times.
I'm pissed.
A situation arises in the courtyard outside and he has to leave. Mini victory.
We close around four in the morning and venture to La Meced to see the procession start, but we miss it by ten minutes. Instead of chasing it we go to a nearby bar. Nothing quite as ohshitwhatamidoingwithmylife as entering a bar when it is dark outside and leaving with the sun shining in your eyes once they open the door to kick you out.
Drunk stumbling on cobblestone is surreal.
The day after he doesn't drink a sip of alcohol because the waitress and I have forbidden it. The regular mentioned earlier comes in to watch him suffer sobriety.
Today, he drinks in secret and begs me not to tell the waitress (he's still on probation). About six customers ask him how he is still working at the bar. Even more than that ask the people that were there the night I had to shove him out of the bar if he was still working at the bar. Word spreads fast in a small town. The sober act is up when he pours hot candle wax on himself multiple times.
Lucky for me, I was working in bar 2 today. Sold my first bottle. Made more than twenty blowjobs (still a shot). Didn't break any glasses. Collectively, the staff in bar 2 made 2000GTQ+ (267USD, pretty good for a third world country) in propina.
Today was a good day.
Tomorrow I'm not sure of yet.
I have not gotten very many pictures of the grandiose processions as I have been working, but I will try to get some today before I have to go into work!
Song currently stuck in my head: The Roots - The Seed 2.0 ft. Cody ChestnuTT
No comments:
Post a Comment