The Denizens of McMenamin’s
I couldn’t resist it tonight. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and cabin fever has set in again. Had to get out of the house, and so drove myself “down to pub”. In my case, the “local” is McMenamin’s East Vancouver.
A brief rundown of the patrons in attendance this evening may be entertaining… let’s see.
There is some woman off to my right who has a giggle not unlike that of Black Adder’s temporary bride, Tally Applebottom. Say, barkeep! I’ll have what she’s having. And here – please hold my car keys.
Oh, just outside the window is a young buck in surfer shorts and black T-shirt, listening intently to another fellow in his 30’s. Young buck was reading the bible a little earlier, before his mentor (?) arrived and greeted him with a manly, back-pounding hug. Will he be saved? Or will he wise up and understand that religion is bunk, before he spends a lot of time and effort trying to find a god that isn’t there?
At the near end of the bar is a young couple, he in white T-shirt, she with a tattoo on her arm. Tats are enormously popular here in Vantucky. Damned if I know why. I can’t quite make out the design, here in the gloom of the swag lamp-illuminated interior. It may be a floral motif, or a flaming skull. Either is equally probable here in the cosmopolitan Pacific Northwest. (Yes, there is a Starbucks less than 100 feet away from my table. Imagine that.)
Young buck update – he’s looking increasingly contemplative, as his mentor becomes more animated. Mentor is speaking and gesturing with great earnestness and conviction, and young buck is nodding thoughtfully, holding his chin.
And tattoo girl is reviewing today’s crossword, as her companion ponders a different section of the daily news rag.
(Young buck’s food has arrived… keep a healthy skepticism, and defend your mind, that’s my advice. That and – check out the brunette behind you, dude. Nice.)
The table just to my right has now collected about seven 20-somethings, out for an evening’s food and drink. The discussion at the moment centers around lousy autobody repair (too much bondo) and the relative merits of light vs dark beers. Personally, I am far happier with a stout than I am with a pilsner or lager. And a woman at a table behind me was telling a rather cringe-inducing story about a motorcycle accident. I think I heard the words “face”and “gravel”. Ow. Kinda makes me glad my bum’s too big to go bicycling any more. I really don’t miss road rash.
No Lamborghinis tonight, sorry to say. But a sweet little Porshe Targa in pearlescent white just left the parking lot. Lambo dude was in a week or two ago. My friend Mark says he knows him. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Maybe Lambo Dude will be in tomorrow night.
I probably won’t be, though.
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