Gin Tonic, please.
So, how do we do this, dude?
I start talking first?
Or you ask something, aand then I start talking..?
What do you mean you don’t understand me, man?
Profound, late-night talks with the bartender?
Drunken, but still.
I’ve heard of this happening, it’s like a rule or something.
You guys are like therapists.
Why do you act like you don’t know this?
No, not that.
I’m not hittin’ on you, man, c’mon.
I’ve just told you, few lines ago.
Bartenders are like psychiatrists, dude.
Except you guys are way better then shrinks ’cause you allow alcohol on the sessions.
Another drink, please.
Will you tell me your name?
Yes, there are real bars and real bartenders, but that bartender/psychiatrist talk has never happened.
Not to me.
I’m not that comfortable with opening up in front of people I don’t really know.
Plus, the thing about small towns is that even if I don’t really know someone, that person probably knows someone I know, so in a weird and not so fun way, we are all connected here.
So if I were to open up in front of a bartender that I don’t know, I’m pretty sure that the things I told him will find a way of unfolding in front of the wrong person.
And I don’t wanna bore them with my life.
I have my friends for that.
Those are some great palls.
Real and everything.
And, now, I’ll, hopefully, have you for that, too.
Plus, this here?
This is a huge town.
A metropolis if you will.
No one knows no one.
So my secretive, half-drunk thoughts and troubles, monologues obviously, ’cause you don’t seem to wanna join the conversation (booooring), are safe.
Only you and I will know this.
What did you say?
No, you’re boring.
Oh, shut up, you only exist here.
Hey, listen mister!
I brought you to this world, you’re gonna listen.
Very very motherly.
Sorry, but you were kinda pain in the arse.
Now, behave yourself.
Gin Tonic, please, will you.
This much talking makes me thirsty.
Anyhow, I was actually once the Shrink.
In a cab.
My cab driver really opened up, God, it was intense.
He started sharing some seriously deep s*it, personal, real.
I was like “Whaaaaaat?”
It was actually really late night, I was going home from the “disco”.
It’s not a disco, we don’t have that in our town.
My God, where the hell do I live?
So, there I am, in the back seat of a cab, listening to some guy’s life journey.
It wasn’t a great story, per say.
But as it happens, I’m good at listening.
I’m nice like that. (wink wink)
So he stops the car, I’m thinking “oh great! This is over.”
And then he just pulled the brake, turned around and just like, continued talking.
I was like “what the hell is happening, this guy won’t stop talking!”
I mean, I am a good listener, but it’s 4 am, I wanna go to sleep.
And I get why taxi drivers and bartenders listen to crazy stuff, life stories, I don’t know.. people’s troubles.
They deal with drunk people.
Drunk people have the weirdest ideas ever.
And, it kinda goes without saying, yours is a job that often requires listening to other people’s troubles, man.
And, I’m sorry that you all have to go through that, it must feel like you’re trapped at times.
Well, I don’t care, like I said, you’re in my imagination and you’re gonna listen.
But, I ain’t no taxi driver.
A Bartender either.
And he’s not drunk.
A little bit, don’t judge.
Hey, you know what just crossed my mind?
The “Only God Can Judge Me” tattoos.
Why would someone do that to themselves?
Where was I?
Oh, yeah right.
So, he talked several minutes more, after we stopped.
In front of my house.
Wow, that definitely wasn’t a nice image for my neighbors.
But, I had to like sit there and listen, I mean, I didn’t want to be rude.
And I don’t know him at all.
Hey, am I the kind stranger people are talking about?
Look at that.
Now get us a drink and let’s cheers.
What do you mean “us who”?
Us you-and-me, us.
Is anyone else here?
That I can’t see?
Or what, I’m like a Golum or something?
How many did I have?
So, not Golum then.
Get you-and-I-us drinks, man!
Do I see a smile?
Let me just write something down.
“Didn’t lose his teeth in a bar fight”.
“Not a robot… let’s just say the chances now, that he smiled, lowered for like, 10%. Which leaves 90% chance of him being one. Not bad. God, it would be super cool if he was a robot”.
“Still weird and distanced”
Hey, will you ever tell me what’s you name, dude?
Why, why not?
Of course, you don’t wanna talk about it.
Are you one of the “a man has no name” group?
I mean, that’s great on the show, but for a bartender, c’mon, you must do better than that.
Look, you keep your tough-guy, doesn’t-speak-much & remaining-nameless attitude, but I’ll come back man.
Like Schwarzenegger, I’ll be back, too.
Until then, I’mma call you Julian.
God, why is this so hard?
Would you just tell me your name, I’m not gonna sleep all night trying to figure out how to call you.
C’mon, help a sister out and tell me your name!
I’ll come up with a name for you, dude.
Mister Noname bartender.