Happy(ish) Hour

I went to a Happyish Hour after work on Monday:

Happy - It was at a great little bar in the city that overlooks the harbor and a bunch of my coolest projects. It's where I take my mom to see my buildings, and where I take my friends for awesome mojitos. I was dressed cute, and had confidence that this work soiree would be a marketing success.

Ish - I was delighted to find the parking lot much less crowded than usual. Normally, one must search for a few minutes along the side streets for on-street parking, or (shudder) pay for parking at a meter. Unfortunately, I thought I could squeeze into the last non-metered space, and began to back into the spot. I immediately hit a curb...then went forward and hit it again....and again...and just to be safe...again. WTF? It wasn't until I gave up on the "spot" that I realized it was the sidewalk. Geesh. I hadn't even had a drink yet.

Happy - It turned out the meters were 25 cents an hour! Sweet!

Ish - I entered the bar and walked around. And around. No one else was there. I sat down at the bar and sheepishly asked whether there was an additional room somewhere...

Happy - The beers were only $3!

Ish - They were out of microbrews. I think the bartender stopped feeling sorry for me after I asked for the third beer he was out of. (Or should that be "of which he was out?") Duh. There are cups on the taps. Like a plastic shopping bag over a gas nozzle, it's the universal sign for "no soup for you!" I reached into my bag for my wallet and was greeted by the odor of my lunch bag. My suspicions were true - I was definitely the cause of the "funk" in the kitchen as noted in a mass email.

Happy - Feeling a "bit peckish" (not to mention bored) I gave up on the rest of my party and picked up a menu. Monday night: sandwich night. Select sandwiches at reduced prices! I got one to go for Adam. My total bill for one (OK two) beers, and two sandwiches: $12.98. Giddy up!

Ish - I ate my sandwich, and saw that Bea Arthur died. Then I realized the people next to me were "having a discussion." By this I mean that a pompous ass of a guy was explaining to a girl why he treated her like dirt the night before (he was really mad at his mother, and she got into the cross fire.) Jackass. I would have dumped him right there, but she listened to him drone on about how she is out of touch with her feelings and he should be allowed to say what he wants when he wants and blah blah blah. Gag me. Too bad I had no one to talk to, and forgot my phone so I couldn't even call anyone to rescue me. I was hoping the "Smalltimore" phenomenon would kick in.

Happy - It did. I saw a guy three seats down who used to be on one of my volleyball teams. He would certainly be better company than the "You just don't understand reality" guy.

Ish - Volleyball guy was obviously in his own "discussion" with another dude, probably talking business. I decided not to bother him, and tried to enjoy my sandwich.

Happy - My sandwich was deeeelicious. I don't know if they have "cuban sandwiches" everywhere. I hadn't heard of them before moving "dan south" but the cuban is one excellent idea: pulled pork, ham, mustard, pickles, and swiss cheese on a sourdough bun. Heaven.

Ish - Umm...the cuban is NOT on my diet. And neither is beer.