Monday, June 7th, 2010
Dear Reader,
[pardon me for a sec while I pay this overdue Comcast bill online. Thanks Sugi and Carter for the three way help on that]
...
Today at Jack's I met a woman named Gail and a man named Joe. I didn't get to talk to Gail much, but I did speak to Joe.
Joe sat under TV #1, at the foot of the L-shaped bar. I sat between him and one seat over from Gail.
Joe wore faded blue jeans and a durable looking light blue button up long sleeve shirt. He had a hat on, but I don't remember the color or any logo.
What's unique about Joe is his eyes. Why? Because you can't hardly see them! Looking at him, it's hard to tell if his eyes are even open all the way. He seems like someone who has worked outside all his life, without benefit of sunglasses the whole damn time. (I know people who've grown up in the snowy mountains of Colorado who don't squint that tight.) Anyway, I was to find out real soon that this idea of mine about his life was dead on accurate.
And the nice thing was, the more we talked the more his eyes opened up. Eyes open and smiling and that old, wrinkled, tough as leather-looking face became animated and happy.
So, Joe was born in 1947 (or 48?), he's is retired, is drawing on Social Security and lives in a trailer on a ranch up Mount Hamilton way. That ranch covers 40 acres and he looks after all of it. He has to put in a minimum of ten hours a week. Any more time spent and that's "on him" as he says, but he "don't mind doing more."
When Joe was a kid he used to play in the ditches that bordered the farms around Steven's Creek Boulevard where the Cadillac dealership is now located. He spent pretty much his whole life picking crops in the Bay Area.
His uncle (also named Joe) owned Standard Produce of San Jose and his dad used to work there too. Standard Produce was located where the Gordon Biersch brewing facility is currently located, right along the railroad. According to Joe, this whole part of San Jose (Japantown and the surrounding warehouses north of Taylor) was once a centralized hub for shipment of Bay Area-grown produce to all parts of the state along the railroad, with things really humming around 1955.
From time to time you can find Joe cooking up the free barbecue they sometimes have (courtesy of the owner) at C&J's Sports Bar in Santa Clara, just off Lafayette street near the Jack in the Box. C&J's has been showing a lot of the big fights recently and according to Joe it gets pretty packed some nights.
If Measure J goes through for the new stadium, C&J's is the first bar you'd hit on your way out after a game, or so Joe says.
Aimee B. was tending bar today and the bar itself wasn't all that packed. Maybe eight of us total, not including Aimee. I made arrangements with Aimee to contact her later this week so I can make the final payment on the photograph I've had my eye on the last couple of months. Can't wait to hang it above the mantel piece!
See you Tuesday after work at Jack's!
...
As an aside: WTF? I meet someone cool at Jack's. I hang out with this person a couple weeks ago in Japantown. We have a good time. I discover this person is smart, has led an interesting life, is in a serious relationship with someone else and is perfectly willing to make plans to meet me in Mountain View (today) for some serious book store browsing action after work.
Totally platonic, btw.
But for my own basic inability to keep track of my personal finances (thus precipitating a trip to Gilroy for funds acquisition, which in fact ended up not happening in lieu of alternate last minute arrangements closer to home), the aforementioned trip to Mountain View is exactly what would have happened.
OK so this person got called away by work so we sort of ended up dual canceling on each other for different reasons, but what really got me was that after I suggested we try to communicate in the future this week to find a good time to retry the get together, later today this person notified my by text that they had to stop hanging out with me because their significant other got wind of the fact that we visited (once) and got all upset about it.
I say again: WTF? What am I, a best-friend stealing thief? Has the significant other looked at me lately? I am most certainly not the amorous heart pick pocketing type! A bristly bearded, shaven-headed man of my girth does not naturally ooze the sort of manly confidence (read: charm) that allows one to go around randomly burglaring a love interest away from the love interested.
Travis has that power, I suppose, because as bartenders go he's a Jedi Master (and has a nice head of hair; and his facial hair is entirely under control).
I, however, do not have that power, in the bar or out.
Anyway, I am of the opinion that if you love someone, you do everything in your power to make them the best version of themselves that they can be. Above all, you ought to ensure they are happy.
In this I think my friend from Jack's and I would be in agreement.
But where I think we would disagree is at what point you draw the line betwixt providing for a love's happiness and seeing to your own happiness.
So to review: either I was lied to and the person I was to meet just plain old doesn't want to hang out; or the person I was to hang out with is so immesurably, deeply in love that any possibility of causing discomfit to the significant other in his or her life would be a pure crime; or the significant other is impossibly insecure and so has created a black hole relationship that swallows up any possibility for the bright star that is the new friend I made at Jack's and was to hang out with today of making any new friends.
In closing, I realize I should be careful. After all, I can't exactly judge a relationship for which I'm entirely ignorant of its complexities and particulars. Yet I can't help but wonder: what price, happiness?
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Day 152 - 157: Of Falons, Flugtags and Fail
Tuesday, June 1st to Sunday, June 6th, 2010
Falon is a handful. She's tiny, but a handful. She's a devil because with her it's details galore and I haven't even scratched the surface of who she is or what she's about. Details follow:
Look for the type-face font, all lower case in classic black tattoo ink on the top of her left wrist: it spells out a single word. "live." ...if memory serves.
Identify her friends as the ones that have the same style of tattoo, but with a different word for each woman.
See the Betsey Johnson earrings she wears: a tiny dark-bejeweled skull, with an almost invisible pink ribbon adorning the top of the skull, one on each ear.
Compared to those earrings, the brightly-bejeweled Hello Kitty bracelet on her right arm practically shouts out its presence, with Kitty's head big around as a half-dollar coin.
Fallon likes skulls. In her words: "I have a skull fucking fetish."
Make sure you read that right, Dear Reader. That's "fucking" as in "wow, that's fucking awesome!" (i.e., for emphasis) and not as in the act of fucking a skull.
Tonight Fallon had an hour and a half long case of the hiccups. I didn't have the heart to try and scare her out of them, even though she kept asking me to.
Fallon knows how to make herself comfy. She can take her socks and laced up shoes right off without using her hands. But she's not so good at putting them back on after 3 a.m.
Luckily helping a woman put her shoes on is something I learned to do a long time ago. It was nice to put the skills back into practice before getting Fallon into the truck and on the road back to Jack's.
Fallon is good at alliteration, too. For example, she uttered the following F-Bomb triple pack on the way back to Jack's from Thunder and Crystal's place: "Fuck you, fucking fuckers!"
To be clear, she was speaking in the general direction of a certain SJPD patrol car that was busy ignoring traffic lights a half block in front of us as I drove down Taylor.
She also has a very pretty belly button. I bet she can't remember when she showed me, or why. ;)
Falon has a taste for chicken nuggets and is not afraid to holler at you in order to get your attention. I am certain I'll see her at Jack's again, and I can't wait, because she's awesome.
In case you need further evidence of this fact: you may recall all the way back on Day 1, where I described a group of women who bought and tried on Jack's tank tops, with one of them changing in the bar while the rest went in back to put there's on? The "one" was Fallon.
She asked me then if I danced, and I said no (needed to be way more drunk to dance). Because of that question (and for a few other reasons) that's what I'm going to do next year: 365 days of learning how to dance.
She's a bartender, can pace you shot for shot and knows how to dance. Her sister is very talented too.
She's left her mark on me. So, like I said, she's awesome. Meet her, if you get the chance.
....
Hardcore Braves Fan was at Jack's on Sunday the 6th. He sat at table 2 and I sat with him. He was busy watching game two of the Lakers - Celtics championship series and casually mentioned he'd run a triathlon this morning.
Yep, chill as can be.
Soon as he said it I looked at him for visible signs of tiredness, but he wasn't showing it. No rings under his bright blue eyes, no slow movements when he got up to get another beer. Hellz if I'd just run one of those I'd be at home sleeping the rest of the day, I'm sure of it.
When asked, Hardcore Braves Fan made it clear he was tired, but not so tired he couldn't go to the bar for a couple beers and watch some sports. I'd like to be in that good a shape.
...
Have you seen the new art at Jack's? It's awesome.
...
You can buy sponsorships for the Jack's Flugtag team. $20 gets whatever you can fit on a slip of paper (more or less), with that phrase printed on a t-shirt with the Jack's logo and other sponsor's messages for the Jack's Flugtag Team.
The T-Shirts themselves will be priced at $10, with proceeds going towards financing the Team's trip to Long Beach in August. Look for the Whiskey Avengers to make a showing at Jack's in support of the Team too, or so I hear.
...
Saw Gabby on Sunday as I was leaving Jack's. She was dressed in black and looked painfully pretty.
Oh, yeah: Sunday fail. I'm sorry, Wendy. I really am.
...
See you Monday, so we can do this all over again. Take care until then, Dear Reader.
Falon is a handful. She's tiny, but a handful. She's a devil because with her it's details galore and I haven't even scratched the surface of who she is or what she's about. Details follow:
Look for the type-face font, all lower case in classic black tattoo ink on the top of her left wrist: it spells out a single word. "live." ...if memory serves.
Identify her friends as the ones that have the same style of tattoo, but with a different word for each woman.
See the Betsey Johnson earrings she wears: a tiny dark-bejeweled skull, with an almost invisible pink ribbon adorning the top of the skull, one on each ear.
Compared to those earrings, the brightly-bejeweled Hello Kitty bracelet on her right arm practically shouts out its presence, with Kitty's head big around as a half-dollar coin.
Fallon likes skulls. In her words: "I have a skull fucking fetish."
Make sure you read that right, Dear Reader. That's "fucking" as in "wow, that's fucking awesome!" (i.e., for emphasis) and not as in the act of fucking a skull.
Tonight Fallon had an hour and a half long case of the hiccups. I didn't have the heart to try and scare her out of them, even though she kept asking me to.
Fallon knows how to make herself comfy. She can take her socks and laced up shoes right off without using her hands. But she's not so good at putting them back on after 3 a.m.
Luckily helping a woman put her shoes on is something I learned to do a long time ago. It was nice to put the skills back into practice before getting Fallon into the truck and on the road back to Jack's.
Fallon is good at alliteration, too. For example, she uttered the following F-Bomb triple pack on the way back to Jack's from Thunder and Crystal's place: "Fuck you, fucking fuckers!"
To be clear, she was speaking in the general direction of a certain SJPD patrol car that was busy ignoring traffic lights a half block in front of us as I drove down Taylor.
She also has a very pretty belly button. I bet she can't remember when she showed me, or why. ;)
Falon has a taste for chicken nuggets and is not afraid to holler at you in order to get your attention. I am certain I'll see her at Jack's again, and I can't wait, because she's awesome.
In case you need further evidence of this fact: you may recall all the way back on Day 1, where I described a group of women who bought and tried on Jack's tank tops, with one of them changing in the bar while the rest went in back to put there's on? The "one" was Fallon.
She asked me then if I danced, and I said no (needed to be way more drunk to dance). Because of that question (and for a few other reasons) that's what I'm going to do next year: 365 days of learning how to dance.
She's a bartender, can pace you shot for shot and knows how to dance. Her sister is very talented too.
She's left her mark on me. So, like I said, she's awesome. Meet her, if you get the chance.
....
Hardcore Braves Fan was at Jack's on Sunday the 6th. He sat at table 2 and I sat with him. He was busy watching game two of the Lakers - Celtics championship series and casually mentioned he'd run a triathlon this morning.
Yep, chill as can be.
Soon as he said it I looked at him for visible signs of tiredness, but he wasn't showing it. No rings under his bright blue eyes, no slow movements when he got up to get another beer. Hellz if I'd just run one of those I'd be at home sleeping the rest of the day, I'm sure of it.
When asked, Hardcore Braves Fan made it clear he was tired, but not so tired he couldn't go to the bar for a couple beers and watch some sports. I'd like to be in that good a shape.
...
Have you seen the new art at Jack's? It's awesome.
...
You can buy sponsorships for the Jack's Flugtag team. $20 gets whatever you can fit on a slip of paper (more or less), with that phrase printed on a t-shirt with the Jack's logo and other sponsor's messages for the Jack's Flugtag Team.
The T-Shirts themselves will be priced at $10, with proceeds going towards financing the Team's trip to Long Beach in August. Look for the Whiskey Avengers to make a showing at Jack's in support of the Team too, or so I hear.
...
Saw Gabby on Sunday as I was leaving Jack's. She was dressed in black and looked painfully pretty.
Oh, yeah: Sunday fail. I'm sorry, Wendy. I really am.
...
See you Monday, so we can do this all over again. Take care until then, Dear Reader.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Day 145-151: Taking It Easy...Well, Mostly ;)
Tuesday, May 25th to Monday, May 31st, 2010
When I look back on the last seven days, it occurs to me that I was fortunate enough to spend time with several notable women each day, whether at Jack's or Cinnabar, at Roy's Station, at the Giants game, squished together in a car at 3 a.m. or in a stranger's kitchen where there were truffles on crackers, real butter from France (seriously) and Rum from the Dominican Republic.
I mention this not to brag, but to put in writing what is for me the highlight of an otherwise depressing weeklong state of affairs (read: state of mind).
Bang!-Bang! once told me that in his opinion a bar is just not the place one should go to meet people. Based on my experience, I don't think that's true—and I may have even said as much in a previous post or two. But I think it bears repeating now, if only as a testament to the fact that Jack's is, if anything, an exception to this rule.
There are not many things that fill me with warmth and pride. The success of my fledgeling garden is one (you only need one hand to cound the number of plants that have died so far). Keeping the Jack's streak alive is another (though I still wonder sometimes just what the hell it is I'm doing). Being fortunate enough to have women—real honest-to-God women—approach me out of the blue with a warm smile and even warmer embraces; that ask me about my day, how I'm feeling and what's going on in my life; who look forward to seeing me and feel comfortable around me; who want to drink, dance and have a good time with me...well, that's something I'm extremely proud of.
Would that all men measured themselves by the relative esteem they were held in by the women in their lives.
I still need to work on building up the nerve to really talk to a woman. To try and show some wit (yes I have a wit, somewhere), look them right in the eye and keep them talking to me. They're giving me chances, I just have to figure out how to keep their attention, now that I've found the nerve not to run away. ;)
....
These last seven days I've made a point to not stay too late and drink at the bar. ACME had invited me to Jack's late on Thursday to celebrate the completion of his last college final. My plan was to do a two-a-day visit (sort of like in high school football where the coaches would have players do a morning and late afternoon practice), with a visit to Jack's right after work, then a nap, then head out at 10 p.m. to see ACME and celebrate.
When I got home after the after-work bar visit, the desire to return later that night utterly left me. I absolutely did not want to drink late into the night. I mean I could feel it in my body, as though every cell was joined together in a sing-song chant of "Hell no, we won't go!"
I felt guilty for not showing up, but I also felt great the next morning after a full night's sleep. The anger I felt towards the young men who were slapping women's asses and pinching them (including Sugi's, twice) on Wednesday night was still riding hard through my brain by Friday morning though. That night I'd told Ras Dank about it right after Sugi complained to me, but he was very busy and failed to see each of the subsequent three instances where those drunken assholes dancing in the front of the bar harassed women as they tried to get by.
Being tired of drinking late at night, not wanting to have my beard grabbed and experiencing anxiety over how I might react to someone mistreating a friend of mine all put a damper on my desire to visit the bar and drink this week. I wish I had Ras Dank's and Travis' ability to remain totally patient and calm when dealing with people. Going from zero to boiling mad is not a recipe for cordial relations between bar patrons. ;)
These things might seem small to you, Dear Reader, but they often stay with me for days and weeks at a time. I make no excuse of it. It is simply who I am.
This week's conversations with Christian were quite fun and illuminating. The idea that he and I might find our way onto a television show sounds awesome. What's the harm in trying, right? I have a goal to get my name on the list of credits at the end of a major movie (even if it's just "Lead Bus Boy With A Beard" or what have you) so Christian's plan is a step in the right direction.
Aimee B.'s graduation party was a blast too. Grant grilled up some fantastic food and the celebration was a lot of fun. I'm happy to have been at Jack's for that.
Looking into Katy's eyes at Cinnabar was intense and unnerving. I can't wait to do that again. If I have to chase/walk Thunder safely home again in the dead of night as part of the deal, I'll gladly take him anywhere (even if he hollers at tall buildings at the top of his lungs and proclaims entire city blocks are his to sleep with).
I spent most of today (Monday) suffering under the oppressive weight of my house (read: depression), but thankfully Lindsay Lee threw me a lifeline on Facebook that snapped me out of my funk and got me on my way to the bar.
Sorry for running late, Lindsay, and thanks for saving me so to speak.
To recap: The pendulum swung away from Jack's at the start of the week, then right back to it at the end of the week.
Hope you enjoyed the three day weekend. See you Tuesday at Jack's!
When I look back on the last seven days, it occurs to me that I was fortunate enough to spend time with several notable women each day, whether at Jack's or Cinnabar, at Roy's Station, at the Giants game, squished together in a car at 3 a.m. or in a stranger's kitchen where there were truffles on crackers, real butter from France (seriously) and Rum from the Dominican Republic.
I mention this not to brag, but to put in writing what is for me the highlight of an otherwise depressing weeklong state of affairs (read: state of mind).
Bang!-Bang! once told me that in his opinion a bar is just not the place one should go to meet people. Based on my experience, I don't think that's true—and I may have even said as much in a previous post or two. But I think it bears repeating now, if only as a testament to the fact that Jack's is, if anything, an exception to this rule.
There are not many things that fill me with warmth and pride. The success of my fledgeling garden is one (you only need one hand to cound the number of plants that have died so far). Keeping the Jack's streak alive is another (though I still wonder sometimes just what the hell it is I'm doing). Being fortunate enough to have women—real honest-to-God women—approach me out of the blue with a warm smile and even warmer embraces; that ask me about my day, how I'm feeling and what's going on in my life; who look forward to seeing me and feel comfortable around me; who want to drink, dance and have a good time with me...well, that's something I'm extremely proud of.
Would that all men measured themselves by the relative esteem they were held in by the women in their lives.
I still need to work on building up the nerve to really talk to a woman. To try and show some wit (yes I have a wit, somewhere), look them right in the eye and keep them talking to me. They're giving me chances, I just have to figure out how to keep their attention, now that I've found the nerve not to run away. ;)
....
These last seven days I've made a point to not stay too late and drink at the bar. ACME had invited me to Jack's late on Thursday to celebrate the completion of his last college final. My plan was to do a two-a-day visit (sort of like in high school football where the coaches would have players do a morning and late afternoon practice), with a visit to Jack's right after work, then a nap, then head out at 10 p.m. to see ACME and celebrate.
When I got home after the after-work bar visit, the desire to return later that night utterly left me. I absolutely did not want to drink late into the night. I mean I could feel it in my body, as though every cell was joined together in a sing-song chant of "Hell no, we won't go!"
I felt guilty for not showing up, but I also felt great the next morning after a full night's sleep. The anger I felt towards the young men who were slapping women's asses and pinching them (including Sugi's, twice) on Wednesday night was still riding hard through my brain by Friday morning though. That night I'd told Ras Dank about it right after Sugi complained to me, but he was very busy and failed to see each of the subsequent three instances where those drunken assholes dancing in the front of the bar harassed women as they tried to get by.
Being tired of drinking late at night, not wanting to have my beard grabbed and experiencing anxiety over how I might react to someone mistreating a friend of mine all put a damper on my desire to visit the bar and drink this week. I wish I had Ras Dank's and Travis' ability to remain totally patient and calm when dealing with people. Going from zero to boiling mad is not a recipe for cordial relations between bar patrons. ;)
These things might seem small to you, Dear Reader, but they often stay with me for days and weeks at a time. I make no excuse of it. It is simply who I am.
This week's conversations with Christian were quite fun and illuminating. The idea that he and I might find our way onto a television show sounds awesome. What's the harm in trying, right? I have a goal to get my name on the list of credits at the end of a major movie (even if it's just "Lead Bus Boy With A Beard" or what have you) so Christian's plan is a step in the right direction.
Aimee B.'s graduation party was a blast too. Grant grilled up some fantastic food and the celebration was a lot of fun. I'm happy to have been at Jack's for that.
Looking into Katy's eyes at Cinnabar was intense and unnerving. I can't wait to do that again. If I have to chase/walk Thunder safely home again in the dead of night as part of the deal, I'll gladly take him anywhere (even if he hollers at tall buildings at the top of his lungs and proclaims entire city blocks are his to sleep with).
I spent most of today (Monday) suffering under the oppressive weight of my house (read: depression), but thankfully Lindsay Lee threw me a lifeline on Facebook that snapped me out of my funk and got me on my way to the bar.
Sorry for running late, Lindsay, and thanks for saving me so to speak.
To recap: The pendulum swung away from Jack's at the start of the week, then right back to it at the end of the week.
Hope you enjoyed the three day weekend. See you Tuesday at Jack's!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Day 144 - Bidding Adeu to Los Tiburones and I Almost Punched A Woman
Monday - May 24 - 2010
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were awesome."
-Old School Doug, speaking to Thunder
OK, bad part first. Out of the blue a pretty woman (who wasn't all that drunk from what I could tell) got a (double?) handful of my beard and made a closed fist, pulling the hairs in tight, then she slowly pulled down. White hot pain erupted under my chin and flowed down my neck as she pulled.
The pain was more than just what you feel when the hair on your head gets pulled. The skin on a man's face is extremely sensitive underneath a beard (ask any man who's just shaved his beard off and he'll tell you his face feels super sensitive to the touch, to the point where he can fully feel air moving over it).
I held my anger in but my heart was racing because I was raging fucking mad.
It's scary when you're good and drunk, because the mind doesn't always take the step of thinking about the consequences of an action. For example, when she pulled my beard it hurt like a son of a bitch so my mind came up with A) make the pain go away and B) punish the person who hurt you. If I'd had any more to drink prior to the event, I'm afraid I might not have stopped myself by realizing the consequences (going to jail for assault) of the action I very much wanted to take (punch my abuser square in the nose to make her let go).
When I consider how close I came to actually doing that...well it's just not something I think I could live with, if I'd actually hit a woman.
As it was she let go and I focused all I could on the conversation I was engaged in with Hair Puller's friend as we were sitting on the flower planters together out front of Jack's. I could feel my heart banging away in my chest because the anger and pain was still going strong and I think at one point I actually tried to fireman's carry Hair Puller, but thankfully lost my balance so she ended up picking me up off the ground with her friend's help.
A little while later when I was walking across the street to go home I spotted Hair Puller and her friend by their car. Here once again the first urge I had was to grab Hair Puller by the hair and give her a dose of the pain I felt. It's weird because I wasn't actively angry any more, rather the urge to do it just popped into my head and drunk as I was it seemed like a perfectly justified thing to do for at least the next few strides as I crossed the street.
By the time I got to them I'd thankfully mastered that urge and instead put a hand on both their shoulders and told them both it was nice to meet each of them tonight. I'd actually had a decent conversation with Hair Puller's friend (Melanie) and wanted to get to know her better.
At one point I turned to Hair Puller and told her point blank (but not rudely or threateningly) how much she hurt me and that the closest I've ever come to hitting a woman in my life was when she yanked on my beard. She seemed surprised by my statement. Then her friend asked for my number and we talked some more about this blog. I look forward to talking with Melanie about the blog (and this post in particular) after she's had a chance to read it.
The lesson here is that it takes two to tango: the woman (Abigail?) was at least buzzed, if not drunk. I was loaded drunk. That doesn't make what she did OK, but neither does it dismiss my responsibility to accept the consequences of my choice to stay late into the night when people are drinking. If you make that choice, expect that sometimes bad things can happen, even at the most well run of establishments.
The second lesson is that I should have had the one after-work beer and gone straight home, Sharks or no Sharks.
Prior to all that, I had a whole hell of a lot of fun observing Sharks players as they drank and played beer pong. Aimee B. was behind the bar and a few other bartenders were relaxing and hanging out.
I have to say the Sharks players were pretty well behaved and everyone in the bar had a great time. They played a lot of good music on the jukebox (Kenny Chesney, Dave Mathews Band, Soggy Bottom Boys, Fleetwood Mac--Setoguchi's mom used to play Fleetwood Mac in the car when he was a kid), were very patient with JoJo when he hit on them, and a couple of them took the time to shake people's hands before they left.
It didn't look to me like the ladies minded all that much when a player took his shirt off to try on a Jack's tank top. ;)
Old School Doug noticed an older, red flannel wearing player with a trucker hat and dirty black handle bar moustache growing over a short-cut black beard who was hanging back, watching all the other guys as they had fun. That player sat where Doug normally would sit in the bar (under TV #1) and just like Doug he had his back to the wall and was sitting comfortably, as though he wasn't so much sitting in the bar as he was putting the bar on. Doug said that players was in escort/papa bear mode and it seemed to me like he was too.
It occured to me that I couldn't recognize any of the players in civilian clothes. I couldn't tell if they were all of them players, or some of them players and others friends they might have invited to come along for the night.
It's too bad the Sharks season ended short of the Stanley Cup Finals, but they seem like a solid bunch of guys and I wish them all the best for next season. I'm glad they got a chance to just be themselves, hang out at Jack's and have fun.
Before I forget: Crown Royal Special Reserve was tonight's around the world drink. It was smooth, almost sweet and made my lips and the skin underneath my moustache tingle whenever I let it sit in my whiskers after a drink. This one's best to drink dry. No need for water or ice.
And thanks to Patty M. for the Tuna Melt and fries. That hit the spot.
See you Tuesday at Jack's!
Day 143 - Lost Season Finale
Sunday - May 23 - 2010
I never watched the television show Lost. Well, I saw bits and pieces of two episodes. And I liked what I saw, but it just never hooked me like Survivor or CSI: Las Vegas did.
Inside the bar on Sunday night the lights were up and it wasn't too crowded. Lots of people were talking even though the season finale of Lost was playing on TV #4. Some people were grumbling to each other about the series and how it seemed to them like it'd been stretched past its useful lifetime as a show.
Me? I was just curious to see if I recognized any of the characters just to see who was still alive this late into the series. It was cool that the jumping back and forth from the island to the real world was still taking place, as this was something I saw happen on a mid-season episode a couple years ago and I thought the dual-life format was pretty entertaining.
Ras Dank was behind the bar tonight and it was a pretty chill evening. Just what the doctor ordered after Saturday's endless drinking on the Party Bus.
I had my one beer and called it a night. See you Monday night at Jack's.
I never watched the television show Lost. Well, I saw bits and pieces of two episodes. And I liked what I saw, but it just never hooked me like Survivor or CSI: Las Vegas did.
Inside the bar on Sunday night the lights were up and it wasn't too crowded. Lots of people were talking even though the season finale of Lost was playing on TV #4. Some people were grumbling to each other about the series and how it seemed to them like it'd been stretched past its useful lifetime as a show.
Me? I was just curious to see if I recognized any of the characters just to see who was still alive this late into the series. It was cool that the jumping back and forth from the island to the real world was still taking place, as this was something I saw happen on a mid-season episode a couple years ago and I thought the dual-life format was pretty entertaining.
Ras Dank was behind the bar tonight and it was a pretty chill evening. Just what the doctor ordered after Saturday's endless drinking on the Party Bus.
I had my one beer and called it a night. See you Monday night at Jack's.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Day 142 - PARTY BUS!
Saturday - May 22 - 2010
Pictures are easier then words sometimes. Thus:
Pictures are easier then words sometimes. Thus:
The bus has arrived.
We all like beer (and jello shots and jungle juice and Jägermeister and whiskey).
Every one of these people has to piss like a race horse.
The Away Team in action. Thanks to Grady, McBride and Charlie for the grub. Big hot dogs, polish sausages and burgers, with the option to have them dipped in wing sauce, barbecue sauce or chili before serving them up on your bun. My mouth's watering while I write...
You can't quite see the old school Star Wars hat on her head. It's kick ass.
Their food makes you this happy.
Anna, our driver. Thank you Anna!
Chips, Salsa and Joaquin.
View of the field from the bleacher seats. Joaquin and I had to get a security gaurd to help us find a pair of seats. Everyone (and I mean everyone) was saving seats for people that never seemed to show up.
Crazy, grumpy, snarky crowd at the game today.
After the game: thanks, man.
The going home party bus crowd. Shot by Patty M.
I have to poop. After you take this picture, I will fall over. But fortunately Jeremy and Sara will break my fall with their bodies. And that's a Jello Shot stain on my hat.
Home sweet home.
Thunder and Crystal, at the bar before the game.
Thunder and Crystal, after the game. ;)
A few different people told me that this party bus was relatively tame compaired to the previous trips. If this was tame...damn! Those other trips must have been insane.
For all that, it was a blast to hang out with a legion of cool people. Thanks Jack's for all your work to put this together and make it so much fun. I'm already looking forward to the Raiders - 49ers Party Bus later this year.
Several of the Party Bus goers stayed at Jack's after we were dropped off. I enjoyed talking at length with Christian and Jenny and their two friends, but I can't remember their names. Drank some more with Joaquin and enjoyed the sunset air as the breeze the was blowing all day made its way into San Jose.
Travis says "Hi!"
Wingmen.
Bryce and Nick: post-game grub.
If you were on the bus and want to add anything to the tale, leave a comment below.
See you Sunday at Jack's!
See you Sunday at Jack's!
Day 141 - Another Sharks Loss and Strung Up In El Paso Texas
Friday - May 21 - 2010
The biggest payment you'll ever make as an artist is a copyright infringement payment.
-The Photographer
The Photopher and I were sitting out on the back patio of Jack's tonight. I asked him if he was the type who asked to take someone's picture or if he would rather take the shot, then show the subject the picture just taken then ask for permission to use it.
The Photographer said he would take the shot first, then ask for permission (unless it wasn't practical or didn't seem necessary)
Shut methods don't come without consequences, though.
With his camera hanging from a strap around his neck in El Paso Texas, The Photographer was busy taking pictures for a multi-city film project. He went into a bar with blacked out windows and took a picture of a man who'd prefer his picture to have not been taken. That man literally grabbed the camera, twisted it and lifted The Photographer up by the neck.
The Photographer was able to smooth things out, keep his camera and keep the picture. But now he doesn't carry a camera around his neck anymore.
Earlier in the day, when the sun had not yet set and the Sharks had just lost for the third straight time to the Chicago Blackhawks, I met a man named Clemente.
Clemente is 72 years old and had a hand in the sale of the bar to its current owner. Clemente and I shared Table #5 while his friend chatted with the owner of the bar. I told Clemente about the blog and how I plan to spend one day every year at Jack's. I remarked on how sore everyone was over the Sharks loss, how the bar cleared out so fast and that maybe people would still be at the bar if the Sharks had won.
When Clemente his reply, his words were often cut short; he didn't seem to always pronounce each word fully when he spoke. His sentences were very short and to the point. His tone was always low, his voice raising up only on those parts of each sentence that were the most important to hear.
He said his philosophy was as follows: "My father would say: be a man. Your team lost? Be a man about it. Some guy gives you trouble in the bar? Tell the bartender this guy's giving you trouble, and you walk away. What's he worth to you over some trouble? Nothing. If he [really] wants to fight, you say OK it's you and me and we'll fight. Everyone else [on either side] can watch. But if his friends want in, you walk away. He's not worth a fight because he's not a man [about it]."
As his friend walked to the table Clemente and I shared, Clemente stood, turned towards me and shook my hand. His hand was very cold. As we shook, he turned his hand so mine was over his, then he placed his other hand on top of mine and said, "Remember this. What I told you." Then he let go and they both left.
Tonight I learned from Travis that there will be an "away team" for tomorrow's party bus. There job will be to set up the barbecue and get all the food and tables ready for when the bus arrives. I love it when Star Trek references find their way into normal conversation. Kick ass.
Tonight was a fun night. Joaquin and I traded pitchers of beer together after the game ended. I watched Charlie and Tanisha come out from behind the bar to serve drinks and ultimately a check to a trio of women at Table #2, then busy themselves with prep, cleanup and the transfer of power from one bartender to the other. (You don't often see the bartenders bring drinks to a table.) I met a pair of beautiful women named Carolina (Caroleena) and Irene (Eerehneh), and talked with them for a good half our on the back patio. Carolina's mouth was small, her lips a metallic shade of red like you'd find on a sports car. It didn't occur to me until I sat down to write this blog post how closely Carolina resembled my high school sweetheart's mother. God those lips....
What else? Ah! Over the course of the night I danced with Maria, chatted with Martha and traded sly smiles with Mercedes. Wendee arrived near midnight after working all day long and hung out with her friend Cessie.
I like women. ;)
See you Saturday at Jack's for the party bus!!!
The biggest payment you'll ever make as an artist is a copyright infringement payment.
-The Photographer
The Photopher and I were sitting out on the back patio of Jack's tonight. I asked him if he was the type who asked to take someone's picture or if he would rather take the shot, then show the subject the picture just taken then ask for permission to use it.
The Photographer said he would take the shot first, then ask for permission (unless it wasn't practical or didn't seem necessary)
Shut methods don't come without consequences, though.
With his camera hanging from a strap around his neck in El Paso Texas, The Photographer was busy taking pictures for a multi-city film project. He went into a bar with blacked out windows and took a picture of a man who'd prefer his picture to have not been taken. That man literally grabbed the camera, twisted it and lifted The Photographer up by the neck.
The Photographer was able to smooth things out, keep his camera and keep the picture. But now he doesn't carry a camera around his neck anymore.
Earlier in the day, when the sun had not yet set and the Sharks had just lost for the third straight time to the Chicago Blackhawks, I met a man named Clemente.
Clemente is 72 years old and had a hand in the sale of the bar to its current owner. Clemente and I shared Table #5 while his friend chatted with the owner of the bar. I told Clemente about the blog and how I plan to spend one day every year at Jack's. I remarked on how sore everyone was over the Sharks loss, how the bar cleared out so fast and that maybe people would still be at the bar if the Sharks had won.
When Clemente his reply, his words were often cut short; he didn't seem to always pronounce each word fully when he spoke. His sentences were very short and to the point. His tone was always low, his voice raising up only on those parts of each sentence that were the most important to hear.
He said his philosophy was as follows: "My father would say: be a man. Your team lost? Be a man about it. Some guy gives you trouble in the bar? Tell the bartender this guy's giving you trouble, and you walk away. What's he worth to you over some trouble? Nothing. If he [really] wants to fight, you say OK it's you and me and we'll fight. Everyone else [on either side] can watch. But if his friends want in, you walk away. He's not worth a fight because he's not a man [about it]."
As his friend walked to the table Clemente and I shared, Clemente stood, turned towards me and shook my hand. His hand was very cold. As we shook, he turned his hand so mine was over his, then he placed his other hand on top of mine and said, "Remember this. What I told you." Then he let go and they both left.
Tonight I learned from Travis that there will be an "away team" for tomorrow's party bus. There job will be to set up the barbecue and get all the food and tables ready for when the bus arrives. I love it when Star Trek references find their way into normal conversation. Kick ass.
Tonight was a fun night. Joaquin and I traded pitchers of beer together after the game ended. I watched Charlie and Tanisha come out from behind the bar to serve drinks and ultimately a check to a trio of women at Table #2, then busy themselves with prep, cleanup and the transfer of power from one bartender to the other. (You don't often see the bartenders bring drinks to a table.) I met a pair of beautiful women named Carolina (Caroleena) and Irene (Eerehneh), and talked with them for a good half our on the back patio. Carolina's mouth was small, her lips a metallic shade of red like you'd find on a sports car. It didn't occur to me until I sat down to write this blog post how closely Carolina resembled my high school sweetheart's mother. God those lips....
What else? Ah! Over the course of the night I danced with Maria, chatted with Martha and traded sly smiles with Mercedes. Wendee arrived near midnight after working all day long and hung out with her friend Cessie.
I like women. ;)
See you Saturday at Jack's for the party bus!!!
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