(Co-worker)Rebecca: How are you, heybartender?
Me: Hung.Over. Dying,in fact. I would kill for a giant plate of french fries and a Coca Cola right now.
On hearing this, a LG customer whipped her head around as if I had said I wanted to disembowel her child and drink it's blood. She was, in all seriousness, aghast. And then she started laughing because she thought that surely I was joking. Rebecca looked confused for a minute, then also assumed I was joking and walked off laughing.
For all of their supposed alternative healing knowledge, these hippies know nothing about the healing power of life-giving Coca-Cola and greasy food.

Travelogue, Sunday May 22nd
We made mostly very good time, and arrived in Brooklyn just around the time my friend K was getting off of work. We met her at the restaurant that she runs, then went and ate at the restaurant she used to run, which is a Michelin starred number with incredible decor that you can still walk into wearing a t-shirt (which was lucky for us, since we were). It was not very busy, so we were spoiled. We each had a glass of Lambrusco. I forget what kind it was but it was dry and delicious and I fully intend to order some for our store. We oredered appetizers. The b.h. and K shared a large plate of oysters and I had a salad, and then the kitchen sent out three more appetizers. After that came entrees, followed by two desserts which we all shared. We ate until we all nearly burst, and then went over to our friend R's place, where we were going to spend the night.
R has two roommates, both also former Athens folk, who spend most of their time on the road working for bands. Consequently, R has a spectacular three bedroom place in Williamsburg with a balcony and real adult furniture that he rarely has to share. We popped a couple beers and caught up with him. When the b.h. was ready to turn in, we were shown to one of the roommates' rooms. We'll call him Tom. So Tom is a guy I have met a few times, but nobody I would claim to be friends with. The b.h. has never met him. Anyway, Tom makes the most money of the roommates, and also has the nicest room with his own bathroom. He was supposed to be coming home on Monday, but we knew we would be up early so R didn't think it would be a big deal. The b.h. crawled into bed and I went back out to the living room with R. When we had come in earlier, I locked the door behind me and chained it, hotel-room style, because that's what I do.
This was a fortunate turn of events, because about ten minutes later the door came open, at least part way, before shutting again. This was followed by the voice of Tom saying to no one in particular,
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
R sprang off the couch, babbling something loudly about being out on the balcony and on the way to unlock the door, and I bolted into Tom's room, waking the b.h. and gathering all of our stuff into my arms and dragging the suitcase along behind me into the kitchen.
What followed was an uncomfortable half hour, the b.h. groggy and his pants only half-fastened as he shook hands with Tom on being introduced. R was shaking and hilarious, like his parents had come home while he was sleeping with his girlfriend in their bed. Then Tom went into his room.
"Where did my new camera bag come from?", he asked, emerging a moment later with my camera bag in his hands. R looked stricken.
"Oh, sorry, that was me, "I replied casually, standing up to retrieve it from him.
"I made straight for your bathroom when we came in. I must have left that in there. Spectacular view you've got in there, by the way."
"Yeah. Nice, isn't it?" Tom was easily distracted by talk that revolved around Tom. We talked for another couple of minutes about the Brooklyn Bridge and the skyline, and then he turned in again.
R mouthed the words THANK YOU and then went to the balcony to smoke. When he came back in, he made a quick sweep of B's room (B is actually a friend of both of ours, but his room doesn't have a private bath, which was why we were initially offered Tom's room) and helped move our stuff into it. We were all saying goodnight when the b.h. realized that he had left his jacket in Tom's room.
"Oh shit- he has the same jacket, too" said R. This is a common thing in Athens, because many of us who work(ed)in bars got schwag from the liquor distributors. The Miller Hi Life jacket in question is ubiquitous due to it's sensibility (made by Dickies so it's durable, looks like a gas station attendant jacket so it's blue-collar fashionable, dark blue so it doesn't show stains, and the logo is very small so the wearer won't feel as if they are whoring), and the fact that the company that distributes said product gave out a lot of them.
We decided that we would figure it out in the morning. I was giggling and R was apologizing and we all went to bed. Moments after I crawled in, I got a text message. It was from R:
"I'll just tell him that I thought it was his so I threw it in his room."
"You are the smartest man ever!" was my response. "Very sneaky!"
The b.h. and I woke up early, as we are wont to do, so we took the keys and slipped out for a walk around the neighborhood. I stopped every half block or so to take pictures of graffiti, which I hope to post at some point. We got coffee and a pastry at Oslo, and then walked around Williamsburg for an hour or so. I cannot overstate the convenience of the iPhone, which I refer to as The Hitchhiker's Guide, in keeping us on track. We never for a moment got lost. It was a great comfort and saved us a lot of time.
We went back to the apartment and R and Tom were still sleeping, so we killed some time flipping through magazines and then went back out around the time when the thrift stores I wanted to see were opening.
I scored a pair of hot pink rubber Doc Martens at Deac0n's Cl0set. They were never worn, and they cost $35. A steal. I also found a button-down cowboy shirt with birds embroidered on it. We poked around some junk shops, ate pizza at Anna Maria's (recommended to us and which I will recommend to anyone as long as they don't ask me where it is), and then went back to the apartment. R had gone to work, but B was home from tour, so we spent some time hanging out and talking to him for a bit before going to meet K. We had taken our things with us because we were planning on spending the night at her place. We picked her up from work and went up to Park Slope, where I miraculously got a parking spot right in front of her apartment. We unloaded our things and changed clothes and went out again. We walked about a mile and a half to the area where we were having dinner. There was a deli that the b.h. wanted to see, so we stopped there and then made our way to Miri@m, an Israeli restaurant. We were the first customers of the night. We each ordered a glass of wine, an appetizer, and an entree, in addition to two salads that we split between the three of us. The food was fabulous. We had Turkish coffee and desserts, and then made the trek back to K's house again before going out to the Br00klyn B0wl to see J. Roddy Walston and the Business.
The club had had some sort of issue with the plumbing, so all of the bathrooms ere closed and they had set up a trailer, movie set style, outside. It had four stalls on the ladies side, which was adequate but only because they weren't anywhere near capacity. Inside was very large. There was a full scale bowling alley off to one side, and then the stage and a big area in front from which to watch the band. There were three bars. I loved the decor and the staff was very friendly. We were on the guest list, and R set us up with food and drink tickets, which was generous beyond our expectations. The band was on fire- better than ever, I think. The crowd loved them. It was great to see people (besides us) shouting along to the songs and jumping around like fools. There was some kind of film crew there, purportedly sent by their management company. I do hope the video of that show will be available at some point. I know the guys are playing Bonnar00 and Austin City Limits this year, si hopefully by year's end they will be getting the recognition they deserve. I had a fantastic time- better than I remember having in ages. I didn't want it to end.