Donn's Tales

Donn's Depot. My watering hole. I'm sure my "devoted followers" are familiar with the place, most of my goings-on happen either at work or at Donn's, which is where I go after almost every shift. It's nice to wind down and have a couple of drinks with your friends (ranging from ages 21 to 75) and also nice to walk in and not have to say a word to the bartender and he/she hands you a Miller Lite. Donn's is where the old but still partying folks come around 8 every night, cut a rug, and try not to break a hip. It's also the place where service industry kids come to unwind after a long day of waiting on people's dumbasses. The two crowds seem to mesh fairly well.

Most nights I know everyone there and when someone brings in a stranger from the outside, including myself who brings in friends from time to time, I get real nervous. Good Lord, it's like a lion's den in there. Most of the time I don't dare bring in a guy I'm seeing, way too many questions ensue and most of my friends (who happen to be men) look at the guy like he's the anti-Christ, silently sizing him up. Later they will bring me his carcass like a large cat would bring home an antelope for the herd, proud and pleased with the kill. (Thanks, guys.)

A friend of mine brought in a British girl the other day and you would have thought she was Princess Di. The poor girl couldn't carry on a conversation with anyone lest someone overhear her British accent and pop their way right into the mix. Her man-friend was less than pleased. I tried once to save her but gave up quickly due to the overabundance of man-crowding and shoving and continued onto the corner where I eat peanuts by myself and pretend to watch Sportscenter.

Donn's is also the spot of many a walked tabs and many a disappearing face. You can be carrying on a pleasant argument with someone concerning who had more affect in the lives of African Americans? Lincoln or Martin Luther King? and the next thing you know, you're fellow debater has flown the coop. Of course, in the bar world this is known as Houdini-ing. Some call it the Disappearing Act, some call it "She's Just an Asshole." (I prefer Houdini). It's a great way to cut out just at the right time so you don't have to go around and hug everyone, and tell everyone what a great time you had, and "OH MY GOD, I'LL FREAKING SEE YOU TOMORROW! DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS EVERYTIME!?"

No.

But people love to say bye. Love it. And when appropriate, like at Christmas and Super Bowl Sunday, I'll go around and tell everyone bye and I love you and all that good stuff. But not at the bar. It's not necessary. Which is why most night's, I prefer the Houdini.

The anti-Houdinis

Once, while on the porch of Donn's Depot, I had a hankering to leave. And once I get the hankering, it's hard to shake. I had to leave immediately. I stood up with my purse, quietly hoping no one would take much notice, but no such luck. My friends directly called me out on my disappearing attempt so I tried to quell them, "I'm just going to the bathroom guys. See? I'll leave my beer and koozie here. I'll be right back." And snuck off into the night. Directly after my departure, and from what my friends told me later, Best Friend Bo appeared, inquiring as to my whereabouts. Our mutual friends assured him, "She just went inside. See? She left her koozie here."

Bo scoffed, "That's not Brynnan's good koozie. That's a disposable koozie. She's gone."

He knows me so well.

Another once upon a time at Donn's, two of my favorite old time regulars, Winker and David Allen, were getting fairly tipsy on one side of me, while two of my younger male friends were getting also rather tipsy on the other side of me. David Allen pronounced, loudly and in slurs, "You gotta make a decision, honey! Which one is it gonna be!?" And while I thought that he was referring to my male companions to my left, I said hastily, "Oh, no D.A., I have very little interest in these two clowns."

DA: "No. What's it gonna be? Me? Or Winker? You gotta decide. You can't have both."

Winker (with drunken, embarrassed, 63-year-old laughter): "Yeah, sugar. Chose one or the other!"

Me (with pleading eyes at the bartender): "umm..."

DA (slyly, steadily) : "I gotta lotta... grated cheese... at home."

Winker: "I can lick my eyelid."

DA (loudly now, standing, still drunk): "I fought for your freedom in the war!"

Winker: "Well, you can't beat that."

Me... Houdini.