It was the beginning of small hours as I stood outside in the cold raining street, splashing through small puddles that form in the cracks between the cobble stones. I was returning home from my favourite place: a small private club, where I and a group of jolly old buddies spend our time playing who knows what and tossing die. Although the name is but a memento of times and cornier than your average Sunday service we still liked to call ourselves the Red Blades of Manderian in honour of what it could have been. Now days it’s nothing too amazing but we still fancied ourselves quite the gentlemen of class and appreciators of good whiskey. I chuckled to myself when reminiscing the times we had. Never could see myself without their company, but every now and then this almost forgotten urge gripped me as it did that night.
Between hopping from one large cobble stone to another, I chanced to glance in through the window of one of the pubs and bars that dot the sides of the street. Some had big handcrafted signs hanging above them, while others required such tricks since they could already draw all tables full with their reputation alone. Sometimes it was difficult to tell these two types apart. The sounds of cheery atmosphere that they had inside was muffled by the rain and reduced to a largely incoherent babble. However, the weather did naught to hamper me from seeing inside. From these sorts of pubs I could always spot in the back that classic clique of old timers, but just the tip of their hats; they liked to distance themselves from the masses instead of staying in the front. Between those old coots in the back and the window there would always be a lot of newer, younger customers. I stopped to stand outside and watched them for a moment.
The massive Autumn downpour that kept hitting my hat and coat went mostly ignored, though I did unconsciously withdraw my numbing hands into the pockets. My toes were getting wet and cold too. The visage I saw on the other side was almost too familiar, and warmly coloured with the heavy brush of nostalgia. A lot of small tables were spread around the space of that pub. People were having a jolly good time, forgetting their daily struggles in this evening recluse where they could share a pint of two with like minded strangers. I found myself grinning as I imagined what the young slightly boyish damsel with particularly dashing smile was explaining to the group around her. Would they see the hook in her story before she revealed it? She looked like the type to take the lead with joy and show them how it's done. At the same time I could imagine another expression behind that vexing grin of hers I could - a memory - the face troubled by worry and stress of whether or not she could afford being whisking her time away in a bar like this. I found myself cringing at the thought as it reminded me that I should be heading home, but I happened to glance upwards at the sign that was clanking against the wall. Heh, I had visited this place before. “Why not give it another go,” I thought.
The street around bar was a lot dryer than rest of the town but not enough for me to entertain any false hopes of getting my shoes dried while standing out there. I walked up to the bouncer who had positioned his monolithic well dressed frame firmly in front of the already opened double doors. “Tsk…” I could have given the place's owner a lesson on how to save on heating bills, but I suppose the open doors were part of the theme. Perhaps I had just grown too used to the opposite after going through a passcode locked steel door every day just to get that half a scotch with friends.
My rain numbed fingers fumbled for a while and I accidentally slipped out a cuss while trying to dig the ID out of a vest pocket. His robust hand accepted it with cold automacy that only a bouncer who had stood in the rain for years in front of the same establishment could have. In that dimly lit street I had to read out the birth date to him couple of times until the oaf finally understood. Much to my surprise he nodded that I was good to go the moment he finally got it. There were no checks to see if the ID was real, heck I doubt he even read my name. Usually there was already someone using a copy of my main ID and I had to dig out a new one. A faint sliver of doubt began squirming through the back of my mind. It whispered me. “Maybe this isn’t your kind of place, it could be one of those roadside taverns full of lasses and lads not old enough to drink anywhere else.” However, the part of my brain with control over the legs insisted otherwise. “God damnit, this may be no big E, but you were a green lad once too. There’s always space for one more old fart in the corner yelling the young ‘uns to stop licking cider and see what real whiskey tastes like. Always space for one more who could listen to their jibbering and tell them how to overcome their troubles.”
As I stepped through the door the atmosphere inside the bar hit my face like a heavy gust of warm tropic air. I swallowed placing my cap on the hat rack while peering around with a neutral stare. Having gotten used to the cold breeze outside, it had been so long since I smelled air like that, that for a moment I forgot how to breathe it. There were so many tables, so many people. I could already spot groups amongst them, but they were separated only by hazy lines and make shift borders that some were constantly crossing over back and forth. I paused my step for a moment, rubbing my eyes as I still adjusted to the indoors. More doubtful thoughts filled my heart. I had already had that half a glass of quite fine drink with my friends, why am I here in an another bar again. My eyes wandered from table to table but I didn’t gaze one person for long enough to see them return the stare. I was muttering under my breath. “Ah damn, I can’t go mingle in there with a clear head. Just one couple more glasses. It’s been a while I need to at least check if tap beer still tastes the same.“ I shook the hesitations from my head and began for the counter with brisk, calculated, steps.
There were others standing there. I grinned to myself as I recognized what they were. They were others like me, non regulars who are just standing around with a small bill in their tight grip, waiting silently for someone - really anyone - to bring them a drink. I didn’t give them too long a glance because I already knew this type. They would be fearful to make the first move here. Not necessarily because they’re green no - I could spot one or two players amongst them - but because every place has their set of codes. Normally, you couldn’t just add a chair to any table that looks interesting right away, you had to wait and go through this arduous process of introducing yourself to everyone. The others were doing it their way, waiting for a drink and a light chat that might lead to something. When it came to testing the waters, I may have also belonged to the group that dips in their toe before face planting into the pool, but at least I screamed loudly when dipping my toe.
The bartender handed me a cold one with foam still dribbling across the pint glass. I had to slurp some of it right up so it wouldn’t wet the handle and eventually sticky my fingers. I gave the bartender a pre-emptive nod as thanks before even lifting the glass off of the counter as I turned to face the crowd bustling in their own private little tables. My eyes jumped from a person to person as they walked past. Old fart, green lad, the regular corner witch or that dashing damsel from the window, I didn’t care who it was. I stopped the first one by placing my assertive hand on their shoulder and offering the other one for a good shake. My voice smiled just as bright as my face. “Hey there, I’m Sain.”
Between hopping from one large cobble stone to another, I chanced to glance in through the window of one of the pubs and bars that dot the sides of the street. Some had big handcrafted signs hanging above them, while others required such tricks since they could already draw all tables full with their reputation alone. Sometimes it was difficult to tell these two types apart. The sounds of cheery atmosphere that they had inside was muffled by the rain and reduced to a largely incoherent babble. However, the weather did naught to hamper me from seeing inside. From these sorts of pubs I could always spot in the back that classic clique of old timers, but just the tip of their hats; they liked to distance themselves from the masses instead of staying in the front. Between those old coots in the back and the window there would always be a lot of newer, younger customers. I stopped to stand outside and watched them for a moment.
The massive Autumn downpour that kept hitting my hat and coat went mostly ignored, though I did unconsciously withdraw my numbing hands into the pockets. My toes were getting wet and cold too. The visage I saw on the other side was almost too familiar, and warmly coloured with the heavy brush of nostalgia. A lot of small tables were spread around the space of that pub. People were having a jolly good time, forgetting their daily struggles in this evening recluse where they could share a pint of two with like minded strangers. I found myself grinning as I imagined what the young slightly boyish damsel with particularly dashing smile was explaining to the group around her. Would they see the hook in her story before she revealed it? She looked like the type to take the lead with joy and show them how it's done. At the same time I could imagine another expression behind that vexing grin of hers I could - a memory - the face troubled by worry and stress of whether or not she could afford being whisking her time away in a bar like this. I found myself cringing at the thought as it reminded me that I should be heading home, but I happened to glance upwards at the sign that was clanking against the wall. Heh, I had visited this place before. “Why not give it another go,” I thought.
The street around bar was a lot dryer than rest of the town but not enough for me to entertain any false hopes of getting my shoes dried while standing out there. I walked up to the bouncer who had positioned his monolithic well dressed frame firmly in front of the already opened double doors. “Tsk…” I could have given the place's owner a lesson on how to save on heating bills, but I suppose the open doors were part of the theme. Perhaps I had just grown too used to the opposite after going through a passcode locked steel door every day just to get that half a scotch with friends.
My rain numbed fingers fumbled for a while and I accidentally slipped out a cuss while trying to dig the ID out of a vest pocket. His robust hand accepted it with cold automacy that only a bouncer who had stood in the rain for years in front of the same establishment could have. In that dimly lit street I had to read out the birth date to him couple of times until the oaf finally understood. Much to my surprise he nodded that I was good to go the moment he finally got it. There were no checks to see if the ID was real, heck I doubt he even read my name. Usually there was already someone using a copy of my main ID and I had to dig out a new one. A faint sliver of doubt began squirming through the back of my mind. It whispered me. “Maybe this isn’t your kind of place, it could be one of those roadside taverns full of lasses and lads not old enough to drink anywhere else.” However, the part of my brain with control over the legs insisted otherwise. “God damnit, this may be no big E, but you were a green lad once too. There’s always space for one more old fart in the corner yelling the young ‘uns to stop licking cider and see what real whiskey tastes like. Always space for one more who could listen to their jibbering and tell them how to overcome their troubles.”
As I stepped through the door the atmosphere inside the bar hit my face like a heavy gust of warm tropic air. I swallowed placing my cap on the hat rack while peering around with a neutral stare. Having gotten used to the cold breeze outside, it had been so long since I smelled air like that, that for a moment I forgot how to breathe it. There were so many tables, so many people. I could already spot groups amongst them, but they were separated only by hazy lines and make shift borders that some were constantly crossing over back and forth. I paused my step for a moment, rubbing my eyes as I still adjusted to the indoors. More doubtful thoughts filled my heart. I had already had that half a glass of quite fine drink with my friends, why am I here in an another bar again. My eyes wandered from table to table but I didn’t gaze one person for long enough to see them return the stare. I was muttering under my breath. “Ah damn, I can’t go mingle in there with a clear head. Just one couple more glasses. It’s been a while I need to at least check if tap beer still tastes the same.“ I shook the hesitations from my head and began for the counter with brisk, calculated, steps.
There were others standing there. I grinned to myself as I recognized what they were. They were others like me, non regulars who are just standing around with a small bill in their tight grip, waiting silently for someone - really anyone - to bring them a drink. I didn’t give them too long a glance because I already knew this type. They would be fearful to make the first move here. Not necessarily because they’re green no - I could spot one or two players amongst them - but because every place has their set of codes. Normally, you couldn’t just add a chair to any table that looks interesting right away, you had to wait and go through this arduous process of introducing yourself to everyone. The others were doing it their way, waiting for a drink and a light chat that might lead to something. When it came to testing the waters, I may have also belonged to the group that dips in their toe before face planting into the pool, but at least I screamed loudly when dipping my toe.
The bartender handed me a cold one with foam still dribbling across the pint glass. I had to slurp some of it right up so it wouldn’t wet the handle and eventually sticky my fingers. I gave the bartender a pre-emptive nod as thanks before even lifting the glass off of the counter as I turned to face the crowd bustling in their own private little tables. My eyes jumped from a person to person as they walked past. Old fart, green lad, the regular corner witch or that dashing damsel from the window, I didn’t care who it was. I stopped the first one by placing my assertive hand on their shoulder and offering the other one for a good shake. My voice smiled just as bright as my face. “Hey there, I’m Sain.”