If That Ain't Country ...

Some friends asked me to drive a couple hundred miles south to help them out at their bar. I used to work there and it was the day of the town festival and they had 2 bands and were going to be short-handed.

So I went.

I had to work with a 22 year old (she was good) and I haven't tended in 3 years. Boy, have I slowed down. Also, a lot of the teenagers I used to keep an eye on (boyfriend's kids, nephews, etc.) are old enough to go to bars now -- which made me feel old. Also, a couple of them had me inventing or improving on crazy cocktails, but I enjoy the art of mixology.

Also, my ex-boyfriend's ex-wife (who in the past stole my morning sunshine more than once or twice) showed up in this white sarong midriff-baring thing (which she shouldn't have been wearing) and ordered a 57 Chevy with Rasberry Pucker instead of amaretto because it "makes it smoother" and she wanted it free because it was her 43rd birthday (HAH! she's still older than me) and she bossed me around through the whole operation so I told her she had to show me her license and prove it was her birthday. I'm generally easy-going, but don't lets start the bitch contest. I'm too competitive. Anyway...

Oh, did I mention there was a band who played covers of 80's "Metal" and wore wigs so that they looked like a hair band? Have you ever noticed that nearly all of Bon Jovi's songs are identical? I kept thinking they were playing the same song all night, but when we were cleaning the bar at the end of the night I read their set list and noticed it was actually supposed to be several different Bon Jovi songs. They did play a nice cover of "Crazy Train" and I am not too embarrassed to tell you how much I like that song.

Okay, so then these cowboys ambled up to the bar and ordered lemon drops. They were real cowboys in dark Wrangler jeans, button-down embroidered chemise shirts, hats, belt buckles and boots. So I asked them if they wanted Stoli or Absolut (these were the only call vodkas -- although we do carry a dozen brands of various whiskeys) SO


Cowboy 1: Don't you have Citron? You're supposed to use Citron.


Sirena Cum Tender: I know, but I don't have it. Don't worry, I'll squeeze lemon in the shaker, instead. It'll be yummy. (under her breath) Damn, my shaker's full of banana shit shots. (Mixes shot impressively in 2 plastic cups and rolls lemons in sugar for neatness and ease. Sets shots in front of customers.)

Cowboy 2: (Regarding the sultry and efficient bartender from under the brim of his hat.) This ain't your first goat-roping, is it?

SCT: (Shakes her head.) Nope, been to quite a few rodeos, too.

Cowboy 2: Well, usually when I say that to a girl she just looks at me all wide-eyed and wall-eyed. I can tell you're as down home country as it gets. (He smiles winningly.)

SCT: (Mouth spreading slowly in a wicked grin.) Yeah, but the irony is I was born and raised in the city -- I spent some years living in the sticks, but... (She giggles. Cowboys 1 & 2 swallow their booze and scurry away. She giggles some more and gets back to work.)

I spent Sunday with good friends. They have a barzebo in their backyard, and we spent the day sitting and talking and drinking a box of wine.

Oh, except we drove through the main drag to pick up some beverage reinforcements and they had yellow ribbon placards posted on the streetlight poles. In a town of 400, at least 12 are fighting overseas. That's 3% of the population. This was one of the sadder parts of my weekend.

And that's the whole cock 'n' bull story, more or less.