Part Two: The Crew

Good. Because what makes the experience – be it a sociological study or a descent into the underworld or a wow-been-there-done-that-I-feel-so-much-better-about-my-life-now or an opportunity to cut loose – is the characters. You can see the bar, the juke box, even the clientele. The staff is another matter, altogether. The proprietor requires his own epic.

The lone female bartender is a sweet, middle-aged woman with a great smile. She always tells you how great you look. She gives you a wink, adds a “hon” to everything. She’s been known to rock festive clothing on holidays, tinsel for Christmas, a jersey for a big game, shamrock stickers on her cheeks for St. Patty’s Day. Her hair is kinky curly and kind of looks like she uses a transformer as a blow dryer (think Slash here from G’n’R, minus gel or a stylist). One night a friend, blinded (and I’m talking like Braille blinded, sorry Ti) by booze and maybe unable to see through her hair, hooked up with her. I know this because at that exact moment (approximately 2:55AM), I received 4 phone calls and so many texts that my phone actually shorted out. His life has never been the same.

There are a couple of guest bartenders: a numbers/stock wiz (one of the professional hipsters) who likes the view from behind the bar, where he can hold court and order the proprietor to dance like a trained monkey; a guy from the City Mission who steps in when there’s a staffing shortage and works for his drinks. But the guy you could count on to know your name when you walk through the door is the proprietor’s brother, Bernie. Sadly, Bernie recently passed.

There are 5 things you MUST know about Bernie:
1) He knows the value of a dollar: Once, some patrons looking for a little added fun asked Bernie if he thought he could score for them. They gave him 30 bucks and asked him for weed. He came back with crack. When they looked puzzled and slightly dismayed, he responded: “It’s so much better.”
2) His insight guides decisions: Once, I, Cass was on a date, and on my way out of the bar, a disheveled and drunk man stumbled out of his seat. “Cass,” he yelled. “Hey Cass, haven’t see you in awhile! When you coming down to the bar?” I turned. “Hi Bernie, good to see you,” I replied. My date was horrified and as a result, I decided that he was a tight ass and that real men don’t drink Mich Ultra, anyway.
3) You scratch his back, he’ll scratch yours: Often when Bernie was behind the bar, we would order a drink and hold out a bill, only to have Bernie wave it away. Then later with sweat pouring down his face, “ppsst Cass, can you watch the bar while I run out for a minute?”
4) He never forgets a face/name: If you ever needed a friendly face, Bernie was your man. One of my friends (a tall, attractive blonde) recalls: “Bernie never forgot my name and I liked how he always shortened it to add a –y to the end, Joany. And then how when I waved to him, he always leaned across the bar to give me a hug and try to feel my….yeah.”
5) He never misses a party, EVER: Bartenders and bar staff and daily patrons can live tough lives. And I don’t mean hard, as in, a difficult sense. I mean, tough, like on the body, liver, and other important internal organs. And despite these challenges, this incredible physical responsibility, Bernie was always there, always the life of the party.