Usually, that time of day, there’s nothing to do but unload the dish sanitizer, balance the till, denominate large bills, break open coin rolls–stuff like that. It’s that lull between lunch and happy hour. We keep the switches dimmed because so much light is coming in through the windows. TV’s are on but muted. Pretty peaceful, actually. Sometimes, when my manager steps out (I think she’s met somebody but doesn’t want it public), I catch up on social media. Alleviates the tedium. You have to be mindful of customers, of course, but like I said, it’s the lull. Customers are sparse, especially on a Tuesday.
So I was leaning forward with my elbows on the oaktop, phone in hand, thumbscrolling, and this guy came in. I watched to see if he would come to the bar. Usually, that time of day, customers go to a table in the dining room. But no, he was coming my way. He walked with calm and measured steps. With the exception of the eyes, his face was expressionless . . . but those eyes!! Crazed and elated, or was it relief? He unzipped his jacket but didn’t remove it. Nor did he sit. It seemed like he needed some time to process whatever was going on behind those eyes.
“Hey,” he said, shortly.
“What’re you having?”
“Ummm, do you have anything seasonal?” His words were calm and measured like his steps.
“Winter Ale,” says I.
His response was a cheerless but certain, “Perfect.” And he finally slid his haunches into a barchair. Something was brewing with this guy. Mid-life crisis? No, too easy. Whatever this man wrestled with, he was in it alone. It wasn’t some universal male condition. I know I’m taking liberties, basing an awful lot on a set of crazy eyes and a handful of words, but like I said, it was the lull–I had time, then, to think about it and I’ve had time since.
For a full fifteen minutes, the man stared at a silent television, never lifting his pint. Then, as if jolted by a current, he exclaimed to no one, “I’ve been an irresolute lion, licking my paws in diffidence, giving them the power! Today was the day, and I did it!” The eyes flashed. He dug out a five and flung it onto the bar and exited, his puzzling declaration still charging the air.
To this day, I don’t know what he did or what he was talking about, and likely never will. What I do know is that the thing behind those eyes could only be madness. I truly believe that I served someone crazy that day.