A Man Walks Into A Bar…

“I have a plan…”

We were all listening. Michael knew what to say. He knew what we had to do.

That was at the Gasbar, the only place to hang out after work that was nearby and had a liquor license. And food. We were done by five, so all of us wanted to have something to eat before we collapsed and emptied all the bowls of beer nuts and pretzels. I was actually just thinking of food when we walked in. Jordan and Spinner were also grumbling about it (could hear their stomachs from a mile back if I had to). Even Michael wanted food. And then we walked in and everything changed.

“Follow me.”

Our table was free, and the jukebox had a CCR tune playing that I liked (Suzie Q, baby, I love you…) I wanted t get some real food, but I wondered more about why we were waiting for Michael’s plan.

“Jimmy, Jordan and Spinner…start your engines.”

Mike only said that when there was a girl around, someone that would usually end up with him while we wondered what went wrong again. Fine, let him get going again. I was stepping out of this one.

“I need to eat.”

“You need to take a look.” Jordan saw her before I did and I understood why we were doing this.

“Her?”

“Her…”

Y’know how a shark can sense blood when it’s so hungry that any little drop in the water sets it off. Well, Mike’s like that shark. He just sees a target and goes after it (reason why he got promoted before anyone else that started with him; yeah, me included). And he had a great target.

She was not perfection to me, but she was here. A nice outfit for a day at the office, but there was something else there that we could not ignore. Her smile was glowing, as were the smiles on her three friends…

So, I got it.

“You want us to be the wing men to this…”

And I was right. Jordan was set up to be a very odd piece of bait. Not that we were using him because he would make things a slam dunk. Jordy was a nice guy who was always a nice guy; the one who always was around the girls who never made it past doing them favors or covering for them at work if there happened to be a problem that needed a target. Of course, he was willing to be our chubby go-to. Spinner would come next, a very shy guy who did not do too badly with at least one woman: his ex-wife. Besides her, not many women wanted to be around a man who stuttered and coughed as he tried to speak to her and had a problem with hygiene and fashion. They both made me wonder what my role was in this group. Was I a combination of things that they did not want to discuss in the same room? It was possible… Being the only West Indian in the entire office, and this bar, made me a little paranoid about these things.

Jordan looked over at the quartet near the restrooms and stretched.

“Be right back…”

And he was about to step over, but he had to stop and stare when he turned to see us waiting for the expected shut down.

“What the hell…?”

He was staring past us, right at the entrance. And as we turned, we all heard it:

“I have a plan.”

It may seem strange to say this, but I really felt bad for Michael, who almost dropped his glass of water into the beer nuts.

“No fucking way…”

“Are we on camera? Is this ‘Punk’d?’ How could they…?”

“Shhh!”

They turned back to see me concentrating on their reactions.

“What…?”

“Let’s see what happens.”

“Why?”

“I just want to check on something.”

Jordan took his seat, the song change continued with Creedence (Willie and the Poor Boys; nice one), and we could hear a little more of what was going on.

“Check them out.”

They had a Michael, the one who lead the others, and then there were three others that had the same conditions and traits (a real mixed bag this time), and they were planning a touch-and-go play for the ladies.

We could just sit there and laugh.

“We should have been faster.”

“We should have gone to another bar.”

“Somewhere with better food?”

Michael wanted to slap me when he heard that (I dug into the pretzels again), and what prevented him from striking me down was the next thing that happened.

Four more were at the door; all matching up with the previous clowns and looking like they were ready to go.

“I have a plan.”

This Michael was much louder, better dressed, and surrounded by three rather uglier people.

“This is the Twilight Zone.”

“Even Rod Serling would think this was insane.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Now I wanted to slap Spinner. And I wanted to have some food.

“I am heading out.”

Michael almost flinched. “Really? You don’t want to see what happens next? This show? You gotta be…”

“Mike, I’m hungry. This place doesn’t really have anything I want. And you now have competition. Anyone want to join me?”

They did not. I stepped into the vestibule and saw that there was another group of weirdly distant doppelgangers walking up to the doors. There was no real acknowledgement of who I was or what I was doing as I stepped outside, but I did hear the same line as I made my way to the nearby falafel stop. They were also playing CCR, funnily enough (Fortunate Son this time). And I began to wonder about heading back to see what was going on.

And there was no need to make a move.

The ladies came out of the bar as a quartet and walked past the restaurant as I swallowed some hummus in a booth. It was embarrassing to be stuffing my face as they passed by and the one that Michael wanted to have made eye contact. They were all laughing and seemed to be sharing a private joke. What I should have noted was how they paused as they stood on the walkway and looked at me. The woman was whispering something to her friends and pointed at me.

I think I knew what she said.