Patton Lee Beaugus | December 4, 2010 4:45pm
Ah-ha-ha-ha-hhhhhh! I was having a panic attack.
Hotdogs were free, so I wasn't really generous, especially if I overtipped Yo out of their money, which might earn me a buyback later.
I was trapped in a booth of the toughest bar in Hell's Kitchen surrounded by mob guys from Jersey. And even worse than that, my pint glass was empty. Empty! Empty!!!!! I had no beer. I had no breath. I had no money to buy a beer. My lungs were going to explode if my head didn't explode first. Think Paddy, think. Even if I could get out of the booth, which I couldn't do, because I was surrounded.
Paaaaaanic. Paaaaaanic. Paaaaaanic!
I needed a paper bag to breathe into, but who carries a paper bag? Not even bag ladies carry paper bags, and I know because I use to date one. Thinking of Delbrina made me panic even more.
Ah-ha-ha-ha-hhhhhh! I had no choice. I started breathing in and out of my empty pint glass. It seemed to be working and the beer fumes helped to take the edge off my beer jones.
When I got back a modicum of control my eyes started sweeping the Rudy's bar for somebody who owed me a drink instead of the other way around. I saw nobody who could help me. Murphy, Madden, and the Sick Mick were there. I'd bought the Sick Mick more than a few rounds, but that was to be expected, and was like buying health insurance you absolutely positively did not want to get cancelled. So I wrote the Mick off as a possible touch.
The panic was returning. Paaaaaanic! I went in for another pint of breathing therapy.
“Looks like we need a round of drinks," said the mob's boss smiling. "You want another, Paddy?"
"Like a crack ho needs a rock," I replied classily. I knew what I was talking about there too, because I used to date Kathy the Crackhead, whose actions were so depraved that she had actually been 86'd from Rudy's, which is about as low as you could go.
"What’re you having?” Louie asked.
As there are no waitresses at DIY bars like Rudy’s, I thought this might be my chance to escape being boxed in the booth. I usually sit alone, so I was getting claustraphobic as well as nobeeraphobic. “Allow me,” I said trying to get up. "I'll fly if you buy," which is my mantra.
This offer didn't seem to have the desired effect. I decided to sweeten the deal, "Anybody want hotdogs?
I'll get those, too."
Of course, the hotdogs were free, so I wasn't really going out on a big financial limb, especially if I overtipped Yo out of their money, which might earn me a buyback later in the evening. You gotta plan ahead in this world or you'll end up in Hell's Kitchen at a joint like Rudy's bar on Christmas Eve without the three bucks to buy a brewski, unless you dipped into your emergency left shoe.
A very small glance from the wide guy directed at Vinnie had the short dapper dude popping up.
Vinnie sang in a Sinatra-ish voice , "Fly me to the bar, and I'll buy us all a brew."
"Vinnie's got it," said Louie with a smile.
The betuxed one seemed to already know what the others were drinking. “What flavor beer, Paddy?”
“Rudy’s Red.” It was the second cheapest beer. I hate guys who upgrade when somebody else is buying, but I admit I considered it. Hey, there’s a little larceny in everybody. In my case, not enough to do me any good, I'm sad to say.As Vinnie did a little dance number on the way toward the bar, Yo the cute barmaid moved down quickly from the other end, like she’d been watching us.
“Did Molly explain the concept behind our… cd?”
I must have looked as clueless as I felt. I shook my head in the negatory directions. They didn’t look much like a singing group, but they did look like they were in costume. I wondered if the other two were carrying guns like Molly and HiTone, and if so, why so? The neighborhood isn’t that bad.
Vinnie returned quickly with the drinks — setting a new land speed record for a round trip. Other than my pint, they were all double brandies in snifters. I didn't even know Rudy's had snifters. Except for Molly whose poison was a brandy and coke. She smiled and toasted me. And then the others all toasted each other.
The drinks changed the mood. Suddenly, it was like a party. And these folks could party!
“We’re turning Christmas Carols into drinking songs." said Louie.
"Mostly beer drinking songs, because Louie's the biggest beer distributor in Jersey," said HiTone, proudly.
"Losing money in 16 dimensions." added Vinnie.
Louis laughed.
"We sing about other liquors, too,” put in HiTone. "It's not like we're a one trick pony."
"While it is true we sing about the liquors I handle," added Louie. "But mostly about beer."
And with absolutely no segue, they broke into another damn beer song.
This text will be replaced by the flash music player.
The song was kind of hypnotic. They all stared at me as they sang the silly lyrics, which somehow resonated deep with in my psyche, probably the part that dreams of beer.
I thought it was probably Ollie. Ollie is a 99 year old babe with bones made of toothpicks. Ollie would get wasted on two Peppermint Schnapps. She would then decide to dance in the aisle between the bar and the booths. We would all hold our breaths hoping she didn't fall and break something that would cause the paramedics to come again, which would seriously delay us getting our next drink.
No, it wasn't Ollie. The Sick Mick and the swarm barflies were staring at the door.
Posed there was a tall gorgeous babe the likes of which Rudy’s hadn’t seen since Drew Barrymore’s krewe of supersluts used to hang at this very booth, with forays into the big backyard to powder their noses.
OK, Dandy the manager would kill me if I didn't say admit that Miss Australia did pop in once, because she'd lost on some Aussie Gameshow and it was either serve hotdogs at Rudy's or jello-wrestle a greased kangaroo in Times Square with the Naked Cowboy playing referee.Anyway, the babe at the door was maybe even hotter than Miss Down Under in that she didn't show up a sweatshirt that covered her assets.
Louie waved at the babe at the door and she sashayed our way.
Molly whispered to me, "Be careful, she's trouble."
I thought about saying that she was the kinds of trouble I'd like to get into, which is the kind of thing I always think, but don't say, because I don't think of it fast enough. But even there was a break in the conversation, I didn't want to say it in front of Molly, just in case she wanted to give a little more elbow tit.
