Antisocial Networking

    She’s 5’7. Brunette. Shoulder length hair. The face? Higher cheekbones and fantastic lips. Theres a touch of light eyeshadow, minimal mascara and something to accentuate her cheekbones. Its enough make-up that she stands out, but not enough so you won’t recognize her in the morning. She has a small clutch and she’s wearing a black tank top under a white denim half-jacket that serves absolutely no purpose but to make her look sexy, and its working. The jacket leaves the breast size to the imagination, but the cleavage in the tank top tells the jacket to fuck off. Trim waist, light jeans that start at a fantastic ass and go down inside her boots and fit her fucking perfectly. She glides in just past the main bar  and is yammering away on her cell phone. OMG and all that. Gets off the phone, stands there, looks around and then makes another call. “Where are you guys?” Looks up to the second level, waves and stutter-steps left before deciding that a right would make the distance between her and her party much shorter. BOO.
I see all this because when I drink at an establishment, I prefer to sit at the bar. The booze is about 4 feet from me and it makes the distance between me and my party much shorter. It also enables you to see who is walking in and give a quick size up of whether that person is a potential mate for long or short term lovin’. I may never speak to her, but knowing she’s in the room is half the battle. I have won exactly half of that battle.

    My issue is these other poor saps in here who have no idea what this doll looks like! Not because they aren’t paying any attention, but because they never had a chance. Why not? That damn cell phone. They don’t even know she’s there! They’re cuttin’ up an cracking shitty jokes and they are doing so at their peril. The cell phone has robbed them of any chance of speaking with this fine lady and also the ability to behave like gentlemen in her presence. Its efficiency is also putting a damper on that amazing entrance she could have made. But that's her thing.

    Gone are the days of walking into a joint and wandering aimlessly to find your squad, thereby familiarizing yourself with other patrons, albeit fleetingly. There is a confidence that one should have when walking into any socially awkward situation and a cell phone at your ear or fingertips isn’t helping it. I am immediately put off by the dude or chick who sits at the bar and is glued to the keyboard “socially interacting” via text with someone who isn’t there. Get real. I think its an Alexander Keith’s commercial that states something like, and I’m paraphrasing, “...and the friends that you wanna talk to are in the bar with you...” I know of a regular at a bar that I frequent who will laugh gaily at the text messages coming inward from God knows where and God knows who, yet she always walks in AND out of the bar alone (save for once, when a young suitor was making time and she behaved as though she was the belle of the ball). I get it, you’re popular, but you can’t seem to network socially with the people who are AT THE BAR RIGHT NOW! That is what a BAR IS FOR. THAT IS WHY WE GO. TO NETWORK SOCIALLY! WITH BOOZE! The only parallel to that would be Chatroulette! (I can’t pull my cock out at a bar... Or can I???)

    At the risk of sounding like a Gary (Oldman), I’ll restrain myself by saying, “...back in my day...”, but next time you roll into one of these joints and you don’t immediately see one of your gang, I dare you to holster that cell phone and browse the crowd. See what happens. Stroll in with confidence and a stride that makes people wonder what the fuck THEY are even doing there. It will work wonders for your confidence and you may run into an old friend or an new one. Look for me, I’ll be at the bar. No need for the celly, the platoon of baboons I hang out with can be heard from the front entrance...
   
     Now, what no-account social misfit’s crackberry do I have to smash into splinters to gedda drink around here?