Bar Trick
Flick here.
I have a buddy named Chance. He's the kind of guy one never forgets. He's an old, old man just like me and yet, he sits around his apartment playing video games like a teenager. He waxes philosophical about braining hookers and lag sissies. His energy is infectious to say the least.
Sitting at the bar with him can be a roll of the dice. Always fun, but one night it could be casual conversation and the next it could be the need for a good fight. Never let the elderly fool you. We love a good fight just like anyone else. That's why we're addicted to trashy afternoon television.
Sometimes all of Chance's philosophizing leads people to believe that he's one of the unstable geezers. While that's probably a little truer than I care to believe, he's a great con artist. He loves bar tricks. He plays them on everyone. The young girls. The macho men. The hipster douche bags. With the right buzz, he'll even fool a bartender. Of course, I've been there when his overconfidence walked us straight out of the bar.
Luckily, he always abides by the rule of life: Don't shit in your backyard. We never lost Wilshire's because of him. Our bar. Our home.
In hindsight, most bar tricks are very obvious and seem like they should never work. However, hindsight does not admit the effects of alcohol and atmosphere.
One time while I was engrossed in a playoff hockey game, Chance sidled up next to me at the bar. He asked about the game as if he wasn't watching. He kept up the small talk until I finished my drink. We were drinking at a smokey sports bar that had as many pool tables as waitresses. They served extra large mugs of beer at a good price. As I've stated in the past, while it's not my favorite I will drink beer during a sporting event.
So Chance is sitting next to me and as I'm about to order my next round, he offers up a challenge. His timing was impeccable. I was thirsty.
"I'm going to pay the bartender to pour you three shots of your choice," he said and then took a long pause to let my lips consider his words.
"Go on," I said.
"The bartender will pour you three shots and then he'll pour me one of these tall ass glasses of beer. If I can finish my beer before you finish those shots, then you have to pay my tab. However, if you can finish those three shots before I finish my beer, then I have to pay your tab."
It took a moment for my mind to completely understand the challenge, but it seemed a walk in the park. I knew there had to be a catch. And there was.
"Pretty easy," Chance said. "So I'll only ask one favor to make it a fair fight."
"What's that?" I asked.
"You can't pick a glass off the bar top with your hands."
I immediately thought of his virtual hookers and told him so. He wanted me to look silly, picking up the shot glasses with my open mouth. However, his amusement would be worth my bar tab.
"You're on," I said and watched as Chance's smile grow.
As soon as the drinks were poured, I was quick to lean over the bar and wrap my mouth around a shot glass and tilt the alcohol down my throat. I looked over at Chance and was shocked to see he hadn't even reached for his beer. I almost choked on my whiskey as it burned a winner's path down my throat.
At that moment I knew something was wrong. He sensed it too.
"Just giving you a fair chance," He goaded me and it worked. I picked up the second shot with my lips and as it slowly trickled down my throat, the corner of my eye watched as he placed an empty glass around the third shot.
"You can't pick a glass off the bar top with your hands," he said with the air of the triumphant.
As my realization of being conned came together in my mind, Chance gently placed his glass against his lips and slowly drank his beer. I lost. I had been defeated. I was pissed.
I tried to find a way out.
I tried to find a way to knock the glass away from the shot glass without using my hands, but all of my ideas would surely knock over the shot glass as well. As Chance reached the halfway point of his beer, my salvation dawned on me. I could not win this challenge alone. I needed help. While I could not use my hands, someone else could.
A young lady was sitting next to us and I asked her if she wouldn't mind removing the empty glass from atop my shot glass. She gave me a quizzical look, but proceeded to do my bidding. That is until, Chance cleared his throat and explained that if she refused to help me, all of her drinks would be added to his tab. This intrigued her and she pulled back her hand. As an act of good faith, Chance immediately ordered her another drink and asked for it to be put it on his tab.
It was then that I realized how doomed I was. His tab was now my tab. I was paying for at least three people now. I would not be asking for anymore help.
"Cheaters never win," Chance said.
"When are you going to lose then?" I asked him.
"Not tonight," he said and went back to enjoying his free beer.
Until next time. Drink up.
Flick here.
