two dollar pints all day every day. where? the pacific pub.
i walk in and look around. there’s a motorized wheelchair parked against the faux wood walls which insinuates that perhaps this place is magic. i look for a paraplegic man walking but realize that without his wheelchair he blends in. the handicap are chameleon.
the pub is lit like a bingo hall but without bingo and instead with two dollar pints. they do have keno though, which is pretty much like bingo anyways, but with tvs, which are less cool then dabbers but only because dabber is a better word then tv.
we'll come back to the keno in a bit.
so, i go in and i order a pint. $2. i had asked before what type of beer it was to which the man whom was serving me beer responded in a voice much funner to impersonate then describe, "it's called VANCOUVER, we brew it in the basement."
it's alright beer as long as you don't smell it. god help you if you do because then you taste it, but you taste it anyways without smelling it and it makes you gag but not puke, which is good --
the head on the beer confuses me. it looks like dish soap and water combined. rachel said that maybe it was and then i stopped worrying about the cleanliness of the glasses.
i look around at the people. i spot a man looking much like santa sitting with a maybe pedophile and a definite heroin addict. they are in the smoke room which is surrounded with Plexiglas. i want to go sit next to them and eavesdrop but there are a few criminals running a muck in the smoke room so i try and lip read but they smoke to much and i never see there lips.
the jukebox is playing the celine dion song from the titanic and everyone is digging it. well, that’s not true. there are two men that look alike, not to be confused with the man in the cut offs and reflector vest, listening to walkmans.
back to the keno cards.
when you're in a bar you don't leave your drink down. its a law punishable by date rape. people here have taken a look around and have decided there is nobody worth being date raped by so they have cleverly guarded their drinks. they have put a safety device similar to the club people put on their stearing wheels over their drinks. keno cards. just put a keno card over your drink and nobody can mess with it. the ingenuity!
there’s lots of other stuff i don't quite understand too, but don't want to, because logic makes things less fun and funny:
behind the bar above the cigarettes they sell tide. they have about 10 boxes of mini-tide and i want to buy some for the man covered in paint and dirt.
theres about ten extra extra large generic white pizza boxes stacked up against the wall by the wheelchair. they don't sell pizza here. a chinese man walks out of the backroom and says "pizza pizza" like the bad itallian accent in the little ceaser commercials but it sounds like somebody with a thick chinese accent trying to do a bad itallian accent. i secretly cheers him because he rules but then he decides he wants to stare at me for ten minutes straight so he does and then i think he wants to kill me only to realize he was just watching the tv behind me so its cool and i cheers him again, secretly.
i sit for a few more moments and draw a picture of santa and a side profile of the child molestor, finish my pint, tip the waitress and tap my toes as celine reminds me that life will go on and on...
- carlin
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