Wednesday, May 7, 2008


Sal is about 30 or so, a Guido from my predominately Italian neighborhood of Carroll Gardens. I've known him for years. I wouldn't consider us friends, but there's something I like about the guy.

He used to hang at at a place called the Red Room at 4Th and Court street. That's where all the goomba kids used to hang out. Most were wanna-be mobsters. Some were the real deal. The older ones were. I won't name names, because I cherish my life.

Anyhow. He walks into Angry Wades the other night. Drunk. But, it wasn't the drunk part about Nick that I didn't like, it was the cracked up, cocaine Sal I didn't like. I think he was high, AGAIN. I couldn't understand a God damn thing he said. He was slurring his words. Then, he says, maybe its my teeth. He proceeds to remove his faux teeth, basically, the entire front of his mouth. He's holding his teeth in his hands and saying, "can you understand me now." Amazingly, I could. Sal goes on to explain how he was in a bar fight and that's when he lost his teeth. I asked, "so what's the other guy look like." He goes, "I won the fight." I'm thinking, if he won the fight (and I doubt it) the other guy must be in the hospital or dead. He didn't elaborate.

Sal won't stop talking. He's talking about nothing. You know the type. Vapid conversation. It goes nowhere. He's like that character on Saturday Live, the irritating guy who just won't leave you alone, who's always in your face.....talking about, nothing!

I finally convince him, he should leave. He's too drunk, too high and he's bothering too many people. Some preppy guy wanted to punch his lights out. I rescued him.

Minutes later, this dapper looking guy, with a suit coat and receding hairline walks in. He takes the seat where Sal was. I'm thinking, thank God, a normal person. He wasn't. Another barfly. This guy had a speech impediment and he was DRUNK.

First thing out of his mouth...and I'm not making this up was...." Do you like blue."
I said, "blue, like the color blue." He says "yes." I say, "yeah, I guess." Next question. "T.V is nice." Where to go with that. I'm thinking, OK, T.V is nice....buttttttt. I don't answer. He goes, "nice floor.' "Nice, fucking , floor."
What the fuck. Ok, he's either some secret spy playing a role or he is a bonafide idiot. I conclude he's a bonafide idiot. He's talking like Forest Gump, but looks like some corporate executive. The scary part is, maybe he is!

I've come to the conclusion that unless I'm as drunk as the guy sitting next to me, I have no idea what they're saying and I want to get as far away as possible. Oh, I've been drunk before and I'm sure I've been annoying, but what ever you do, don't go into a bar and hang out with drunks, unless your drunk. I'm sure some drunk guy had a very interesting conversation with either of these drunk guys. They were probably slapping each other on the back, giving each other nookie's and play fighting.

It's nice to be sober and see that side of people, because I'm sure I've been like that and now I know what it's like to be a complete idiot, seeing it through the eyes of the barfly.

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