I showed up, at the usual time, at the usual place. Except there was no one behind the bar. Musicians were setting up, late it seemed, and the entire place felt a bit … delayed. M came upstairs with the ice bucket after a few and waved. In her wake was a new face. A new waitress, learning the gig as she went last night.

Which is fine, good even, since she is cheerful and eager to work, and hey Mondays are quiet until at least 8 or so. So M could show her around and tell her things with some time to do so. Except, of course, last night got busy early and stayed that way.

It wasn’t helped by M having showed up late (hence the place seeming in mid-state when I walked in) and M herself occasionally asking if anyone had seen her head, all night, because it felt like she was running around without it. Which sums up the night.

The new kid, as I kept referring to her because for some reason her name would not stick in my head (and of course it escapes me this second, though it starts with an A), kept putting herself out there to learn, and that was fun to watch. Not as fun as watch M try to move twice as fast as normal while being capable of only 3/4 speed to start with. I mean, it shouldn’t be funny - but it is.

It also turned out, when their dinner arrived, that the new kid had never tasted miso soup before. Considering my views on miso (see also: Godly), I found this shocking, not to mention disturbing. So did M. Dear lord, we’re soup snobs.

Vin showed up and we hung out and talked writing for a while. Now, Vin doesn’t drink. Nothing special there, he just doesn’t. So he has coffee, or coke or water or whatever, and hangs out just fine. Except I find out this morning that he pulled a special one. He overdid it. On caffeine. He’s punchy today and if it had been boozahol I would say he’s hung over. But no. He just … overdid … I dunno, it makes me laugh.

There were some characters last night. And I mean that in the most annoying way possible. The woman who waited until the waitress (poor new kid) was at least four steps away before waving her hand furiously and calling her back. For one little thing at a time. I mean, come on, lady!

Then there was the guy who was banned, a while back. He came in and M got right in his face forcing him out through sheer force of will. This guy looked like he wanted to maybe take a swing but wouldn’t dare. And that just made it funny. M is not large, but when she gets that look in her eye you realize she will, in fact, kill you. Easily. It helps.

Hammerpants showed up late because he went back to krate (pronounced Kra-Tay) class. And mad props to that shit. You go and work out, and get your ass beat for a few hours and then go to the bar? Nice work. We were all jammed up, place was packed, but there was room made and laughter had.

Later on the Curtis Dean and his blues band were playing “Good Gravy”. They play the song a bunch, and every time they do Hammerpants and I laugh and then try to remember why it was so damn funny. We both know it was something oddly funny the first time we heard the song but can never place it. M blinked when we told her and then laughed, remembering something hysterical happened but not able to recall what any more than we could.

So I looked it up just now.

It goes back to early Feb. And now we know. Not that we’ll remember come next Monday, but I feel better now. Of course it has to do with Kirkbride. Of course it does.

We got up to leave and I handed M some extra money.

“But the new kid a drink on me, will ya?”

M laughed and nodded, “She’s started to ask ‘When can I go home?’ already…”

But we all know she’ll survive and be there again and work and memorize the price list (that M couldn’t find time to write out) and learn to spot that table in the corner and … well, there’s time. Dear lord, now I’m adopting the wayward bar children.

I need a drink.

Wait. Fuck.

BONUS ROUND ON THE HOUSE: Last week, Vin took a picture of M and gave me permission to post it. So here, ladies and gents, is M … except see she doesn’t stand still. So… yeah.