Social

When I go out, it's usually because I'm hungry and there is no food in the house that I feel like eating. Last night was like that. I stopped into O'Connor's - the Irish place, you might've guessed - on the way home from work. 

There was a sign with descriptions of various cocktails. I ordered an Espresso Martini out of pure nostalgia. 

Some years ago, early in my separation, I found a bartender in a place that no longer exists. She was working her way through nursing school. I asked her if she had a specialty, a drink she especially liked to prepare. She made me an Espresso Martini. The libation was not only delicious but also somehow both soothing and invigorating at the same time. I wasn't entirely sure if it was the drink itself or the person mixing it. When it was time to go, I placed my health insurance card on the bar. The bartender looked puzzled. I let her know that from this point forward she was to be my primary care physician. 

This one was too sweet and lacked the medicinal qualities of the one I was pining for. I ate my food in my plexiglassed section of bar with a single barstool separating me from two men. One of them was loud, talked incessantly, and said nothing of interest. I turned to scrolling through my phone and ordered a tall beer with the vague plan of drinking that and getting out 

Those men left while I was reading an article and two more replaced them. Apparently they'd been golfing. They were talking about an upcoming bachelor party they were preparing for. One of them said he was going to get a mullet for the occasion. 

"It's not in North Korea, is it?" I butted in. 

"Huh?"

"The bachelor party. Is it in North Korea?"

"No, it's in Mass. Where'd you get North Korea?"

"Well, mullets have been outlawed there. Just trying to save you some trouble."

 "What???"

"Yup, mullets and skinny jeans are now illegal in North Korea."

"That's a good look."

We are laughing. I am laughing so hard that tears are starting to run down my cheek. My response is disproportionate. I don't get out enough to know how to behave anymore. I pay the tab. 

"Kamsahamnida," I tell the young men.

"What's that?"

"It's Korean. If you have any problems over there, just tell them that."

"Kamsahamnida?"

"Exactly!"

I'm still laughing in the parking lot. The moon looks full and I'm glad to be leaving here.