Back when I was in college, I used to frequent an Irish Pub located a few blocks down the street. My friend and I used to go there at least 2 times a week. We quickly got to know the other regulars and what days certain bartenders were working. It was like Cheers, everybody knew our names.
One night, after an impossible day of classes and projects and an asshole “academic advisor” that repeatedly kept fucking with my life, I decided I needed a drink.
While I was in class, I text messaged my friend to see if she wanted to meet me up there, but unfortunately, she was at work. I’m normally not the type of person that can go to a bar, or anywhere for that matter, by myself. The anxiety I get when walking into a room full of strangers is enough to make me have a panic attack, but I really needed to get my mind off the chaos that was going on around me. Besides, this was my place and it was Thursday. I was bound to know someone there.
I walked into the bar alone and quickly saw one of the regulars. He introduced me to this girl whose name I can’t remember. We all began playing darts together. He told me that there were some people from Blue Moon there giving away free pints of beer. Beer and free in the same sentence? Sounded good to me. He went and got us all a round.
We were talking and playing darts and drinking our free beers when all of the sudden it just hit me. That HORRIBLE, ungodly, “OMG I’m going to puke right now” feeling. I had no idea where it came from, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was nowhere close to being drunk, having only had half a Blue Moon. I don’t even remember eating anything strange for dinner that night. That puke feeling was there though. It was coming and I had to think of a way to get out of it.
The bathroom was clear across the bar. The front door had like 15 people, including the bouncer that saw me at least twice a week, in front of it. There wasn’t a trash can in sight. Shit. I could feel it rising in my throat.
In an effort not to be seen, I quickly turned my back towards my friends into a place where the light wasn’t really hitting. And I puked. In my pint glass.
Thank god it wasn’t a lot of puke. It went right to the brim. I was actually impressed with how well I managed to get it all in the glass. Only a little bit splashed out and landed on one of the bar stools.
I quickly went to the bathroom to wash out my mouth, hands, and puke filled pint glass. There were little beverage napkins right by where we playing darts. The plan was to clean up and come back, beverage napkins in hand, and clean the stool. I didn’t want to be a jerk and leave my favorite place dirty. No one would even notice!
When I came back from the bathroom, no one seemed to notice I had left. The girl whose name I can’t remember, did however, place her purse right on top of my puke stained stool.
Shit.
Do I move the purse and clean it up? No. If I did that, she’d probably think I was trying to steal from her or would notice that the stool was covered in my gross puke.
Do I pretend like I have no idea what happened when she eventually picks up her purse and notices it has puke stains on it? No. I’m a terrible actress.
Do I lie and say I have to work early tomorrow and bail out of there so I don’t have to witness anything? Yes, Barbara, go with option 3.
I politely said my goodbyes and got out of there as quickly as possible. I never found out the outcome of that night, but girl whose name I can’t remember, if you were wondering why there was puke all over your purse when you left, it was me. Sorry.
Tags: alcohol, bars, life, puke, TMI
