It's taken me a while to turn this experience into written form, but here it is.
Last Friday night, a few friends and I decided to go hit up a bar called "The Mix," a gay-friendly place downtown. No, I am not gay. It's just a very nice, friendly bar that has fun karaoke on Friday nights, and people buy you drinks (if you're a guy)
So, the four of us are sitting at a booth drinking beers and having a semi-private conversation. I'd gotten a Mack&Jacks African Amber Ale, which is a personal favorite. We're talking about politics and having a pretty good time.
Then, a guy scoots in next to me, and sits about three feet away. He looked homeless. He had straight gray hair down to his neck and a very stubbly face. I didn't think much of it at the time, and our conversation continued interrupted. After awhile, he got up and walked off.
Then, he came back. Did I mention that he looked totally drunk? This time, he schooched in next to me, right up close, in my personal space. My bubble was totally broken. He looks at me, sticks out his hand, and says, "Hi, I'm Mick!"
I replied, using all the caution used when in an encounter with a very strange drunk man whoose intents and personality is unknown. "Hi, I'm Gib, nice to meet you."
Then begins a discussion so bizarre that my brain has thrown most of the memories out in order to retain it's own sanity. I have not been able to remember more then a few bits and pieces. And I wasn't drunk or anything.
He kept wanting to do toasts with us, and kept saluting the bartender, who, apparently, is on a level with Jesus. He kept constantly re-introducing himself to the girl sitting on the other side of me. "And what's your name, young lady?" "My name's Miranda" "Oh, well heck, I have a daughter named Melissa"... a few minutes later, "And what's your name, young lady?" "My name's Miranda" "Oh, well heck, I have a daughter named Melissa." Repeat that exact dialogue about 3 or 4 more times and you begin to get the picture.
As chance would have it, it was karaoke night, and Miranda asked Mick, "Are you going to do karaoke tonight?" "What?" he replied. "I asked, are you going to sing a song?". "YEAH, MARIJUANA AND COCAINE!!!" He looked extremely excited and enthusiastic.
Later, he was back to doing toasts and shaking my hand. Apparently I am God's gift to the universe. Then the strangest thing of all happens. I thought he was going to shake my hand for the 100th time, but no. This time, he takes my hand in his, and kisses it. The sort of kiss to the hand one gives someone gives their future wife after she's just put on the engagement ring. He then leaned forward and whispered, for my ears alone, with his hands cupped around his mouth, "Winter is coming, and when it comes, you gotta learn to relax. You just gotta learn to relax, man."
To this day, I'm not sure quite what this means. He got up and left soon after that.
Nobody knows exactly who Mick was, or where he came from. Nobody knows where he's going, or what exactly he was going at a gay-friendly bar in Tacoma, Washington. I got up, walked to the bar, and ordered another drink.
Last Friday night, a few friends and I decided to go hit up a bar called "The Mix," a gay-friendly place downtown. No, I am not gay. It's just a very nice, friendly bar that has fun karaoke on Friday nights, and people buy you drinks (if you're a guy)
So, the four of us are sitting at a booth drinking beers and having a semi-private conversation. I'd gotten a Mack&Jacks African Amber Ale, which is a personal favorite. We're talking about politics and having a pretty good time.
Then, a guy scoots in next to me, and sits about three feet away. He looked homeless. He had straight gray hair down to his neck and a very stubbly face. I didn't think much of it at the time, and our conversation continued interrupted. After awhile, he got up and walked off.
Then, he came back. Did I mention that he looked totally drunk? This time, he schooched in next to me, right up close, in my personal space. My bubble was totally broken. He looks at me, sticks out his hand, and says, "Hi, I'm Mick!"
I replied, using all the caution used when in an encounter with a very strange drunk man whoose intents and personality is unknown. "Hi, I'm Gib, nice to meet you."
Then begins a discussion so bizarre that my brain has thrown most of the memories out in order to retain it's own sanity. I have not been able to remember more then a few bits and pieces. And I wasn't drunk or anything.
He kept wanting to do toasts with us, and kept saluting the bartender, who, apparently, is on a level with Jesus. He kept constantly re-introducing himself to the girl sitting on the other side of me. "And what's your name, young lady?" "My name's Miranda" "Oh, well heck, I have a daughter named Melissa"... a few minutes later, "And what's your name, young lady?" "My name's Miranda" "Oh, well heck, I have a daughter named Melissa." Repeat that exact dialogue about 3 or 4 more times and you begin to get the picture.
As chance would have it, it was karaoke night, and Miranda asked Mick, "Are you going to do karaoke tonight?" "What?" he replied. "I asked, are you going to sing a song?". "YEAH, MARIJUANA AND COCAINE!!!" He looked extremely excited and enthusiastic.
Later, he was back to doing toasts and shaking my hand. Apparently I am God's gift to the universe. Then the strangest thing of all happens. I thought he was going to shake my hand for the 100th time, but no. This time, he takes my hand in his, and kisses it. The sort of kiss to the hand one gives someone gives their future wife after she's just put on the engagement ring. He then leaned forward and whispered, for my ears alone, with his hands cupped around his mouth, "Winter is coming, and when it comes, you gotta learn to relax. You just gotta learn to relax, man."
To this day, I'm not sure quite what this means. He got up and left soon after that.
Nobody knows exactly who Mick was, or where he came from. Nobody knows where he's going, or what exactly he was going at a gay-friendly bar in Tacoma, Washington. I got up, walked to the bar, and ordered another drink.
