We have a new best friend, Bill.
According to Bill his own self, he was a drinker at age ten, so I'm thinkin' he was a bad boy, but not in the leather jacket wearing/motorcycle riding sense. Told us that he had been downtown for the rib cook off, got kicked out of one place (just one?, I asked), was on his way home and got lost, so he stopped in and then heard us playing and decided to stay. I like how he could find his way to Cleveland, but not back to his own house. I asked him where he lived and he told me Litchfield....the Park Tavern is in North Royalton. He didn't seem too concerned when I told him that he was no where close to home. But he told the bartender that his friend dropped him off there and that he would be back to pick him up later.
It was MUCH later when he left. Our new friend, Bill was exhausting.
He was so stupid drunk that the bartenders refused to serve him, except for water and I noticed that he was the only one drinking from a plastic cup. Even the people who were going to or coming from the patio had glass glasses.
He was constantly in our faces doing air guitar, directing us, talking to us, singing along, and dancing (well, his version of singing and dancing). When I was singing Leaving On a Jet Plane, he actually acted out the song like a little kid. He put his arms across his chest to hug himself during the words "hold me like you'll never let me go" and when it got to the chorus, he started doing the airplane thing with his arms out and buzzing around the bar. It was amusing for about 3 seconds.
After we were done, I headed over to the bathroom (I know you've missed the bathroom stories) and these 2 girls come out of the only stall, which was giant and apparently had a sound proof door so that they had to be in there together to chat with one another....anyway, they looked like they're about 12 years old, which made me wonder if I have reached the age where everyone under 30 looks like a teenager, and one of them tells me that I should be really careful if I go in there because the bathroom toilet is almost overflowing. Okay, really...we have to use the word bathroom as an adjective for toilet???? I suppose if we were in the country, that would make sense so that I would know it wasn't the outhouse toilet or if we were camping I would know that it wasn't the port-o-potty toilet. So, that alone convinced me that they really were 12 years old and had really good fake ID's. I took one look in the stall and decided to head back out and I told them that they should tell the bartender. I watched them stroll back to their spots at the bar, pick up their drinks and continue their conversation even though the bartender was right in front of them. So, I called her over and told her about the bathroom toilet.
When we left I made Mudcat stop at the nearest gas station. Aren't you glad I share these things?