Guest Bartending

Oh, how I wish you could have been to my guest bartending. I will share some of the better anecdotes of the evening with you. I must preface my narrative with my views of bartending and life in general. I think bartending is the worst job in the world. Basically Carm (my bartender friend at Jekyl and Hyde herinafter J&H) explains bartending as: You work when everyone is relaxing, relax when everyone is sleeping, and sleep when everyone is working, you'll never have New Years, St. Patrick's Day or the Fourth of July off, and people think that everything behind the bar is for sale. "So, basically you are a zombie." I confirmed all of these as true in one night. Here is a list of some of the exchanges.

• Kid With A Terrible Fake ID: A rather young looking white male presents me with an ID of a 31 year old Hispanic male. "Ok mister Santos? Could you tell me your address." He of course knows to memorize the address for somewhere in Kentucky. He's not a complete amateur so I up my game. He actually knows the drivers license number, which in itself is a sign it's a fake. I ask, "Mr Santos. What's your sign?" He is now a deer in the headlights. I know he's a Pices because his birthday was only a few days prior. "Uh, Scorpio?" I tell him nice try and to please leave. He says, "There are tons of underage people in here, I'm going to call the cops." I simply tell him that there is a station next door and he can walk over there himself. Surprisingly he does. The cops show up and I tell him the story, serve them a "Coca-Cola" and they leave.
• The Girls Who Mistakes Hogging Up Your Time With Flirting: J&H has, for some unkown reason, renamed all of their normal drinks into monsters. A young lady walks up and asks, "What's in a Frankenstein?" I tell her that it is basically a gin and juice. "What's in a Dracula?" It's wiskey, soda, and grenadine. "What's in a Fang?" It's banana liqueur, pineapple juice and gin. "What would you recommend?" she asks batting her eyelashes. In other situation at a bar like this I would have taken this as a "game on" situation, but with a bar of three-deep frat boys calling for Miller Lites and confirming that they do in fact have money by waving it in your face I say. "Sweetheart, no matter what you order it's going to come out as a straight Jager-Bomb." Apparently I have insulted her as a human being, "Why would you do that?" My biting sarcasm has gone from nibble to chomp and I have alienated another patron.
• The Girl Drink Drunk: The well-dressed man getting plastered off of $5 cranberry and vodkas has asks me to "freshen him up." I make a comment on how much I like that his shirt is so shiny, and that must have cost "no less than $65." "Try 90." I tell him that I have the perfect drink for him: Ginger Ale, grenadine, and plenty of cherries. "What the hell is this? I wanted a cranberry and vodka!" I tell him that it's called a Shirley Temple and it's basically the same thing.
  

So as everything else in life, I am simultaneously the best and worst at what I do. I was slinging beers and shots like drunken cowboy and exercising a Scottish shepherd's control of the drunken sheep, but made enemies faster than it took to ring up their tabs before leaving in a huff.

Line of the night: A girl asks me if I came here often, went back and giggled to her friends. When she came back I asked her if she knew how much a polar bear weighed, and when she sat there dumbfounded, I said "Enough to break the ice?" gave her a free shot, she shot it (without taking the cigarette out of her mouth), and then said, "Wait, I don't get it."