Woody drove the thirty miles into town in a taxi. He was a confirmed drunk and didn’t care who knew it. He went to The River to drink. In that little village, there were at least a dozen places within walking distance to eat, drink, dance, and party. He liked that he could walk to each venue without fear of getting a DUI… because he was planning on getting shit faced.
He didn’t eat much: a salad, some soup, an appetizer, or sandwich, but he poured his wallet out on liquid libation at many establishments before being shuttled back the way he came. He didn’t mind the hundred dollar round trip fare, including a hefty tip, if it kept him out of the drunk tank.
He particularly loved jazz, and there were a couple of places that featured interesting local players. “Man, this is cool!” Woody remarked to one of the bartenders. “I mean really cool!” he stated again.
He would wander from place to place pacing his drinking enough to sustain the high he was looking for without being too sloppy or obnoxious. He took a toke off his pipe in the alley or a dark side street as he progressed through the night venturing off to the next offering.
He began the night with a quick one at the drinking man’s bar where he would find out the gossip about what was going on in town, who was playing where, who had the best food, the strongest drinks, no cover charge, etc.. He was always sure to give the barkeep a generous tip.
“If I get into town at 6:00 PM and plan on partying until 2:00 AM, it’s like working an eight hour shift,” he smiled to himself as he flirted with the woman sitting next to him.
Sometimes he’d spend an hour lingering over a couple of cocktails, making small talk with a charming waitress or fellow patron seated next to him at the bar. He wasn’t that interested in pursuing a relationship or sexual liaison as he was in some sweet companionship for a few moments before he moved on to the next place.
The pizza place would have closed up long ago. They rarely stayed open past midnight. But oddly enough, this is where he could find some of the best entertainment. Unfortunately they only offered beer and wine and he was definitely a hard liquor sort. But he carried a flask of something to sip for just such occasions.
There was a new steak house in town that had just what he was looking for. He ordered a drink and moved closer to the stage. Then he ordered an appetizer and another drink. He had never stayed at one place so long. He stayed for two full sets. “Yeah, man!” He said to no one in particular. “This is what I’m talkin’ about! Real Jazz!”
The piano player called out, ” B flat. No tune. Let’s just start in B flat.”
Woody thought about this. “B flat, hmmm? Isn’t that cool?”
At 2:00 AM the cab picked him up in front of whichever bar was just closing. The gay resort was usually the last place to finish off the night. Sometimes they’d have karaoke going full blast, and other times it was the solace of an old time piano bar where people sang their hearts out to each other.
“Sing me something in B flat,” Woody called out. “This whole night has been like B flat. Isn’t that cool?” He nodded out in the backseat on the ride home.
(First published 1/15/13)
