After a long day of looking for used cars in the little shit box dearerships around FWB we decided it was time for a well deserved beer or two... or three, four, five...arg. I forgot to ask the bartender which Muzak or Sirius channel she had it on, but they were playing some really good music--Counting Crows, Nirvana, John Mayer, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, that kind of stuff which was a welcome change from the honky tonk, country music that droned in every office of every used car salesman we talked to all day.
This place really is great. It's got a view of the harbor and the boats and for anyone who's reading this that knows of LJ Schooner's I dare you to describe it as anything other than "picturesque". For bonus points, the only bartenders I guess this place hires are attractive females. In the words of Mr. Burns.... Excellent Smithers...
Last night there was an eclectic mix of people hanging around sucking on their bottles like hungry infants. Some kid that goes to school in Orlando and is supposedly something of a golfing phenom was drinking with his dad. He explained to me in great detail that the key to golf when taking a shot is to think of a ham sandwhich. There you go, a ham sandwich. I'm pretty sure you can substitute lunchmeats or even wheat for rye, but the point is to let your mind relax without overthinking your swing. Sounds good to me.
There was this hilarious drunk redheaded girl that had the most infectious giggle; a cool dog too, I think it was a lab and pitbull mix. Other characters included: three Air Force guys obviously recovering from a long weekend, weird/creepy pipe smoking mp3-player-listening-to-guy, a babyfaced biker kid that was somehow connected to the hilarious redhead, a couple of bleary-eyed old boat captains, and of course the bartender.
It was all pretty standard happenings I guess. The golfing guy's dad fell down the steps and onto the floor, but other than a bruised ego I think he was OK. The bartender gave us a crash course on the enigma which is the fake/polite female laugh. The creepy guy continued to be creepy and the biker guy turned out to be the roommate of the hilarious drunk redheaded girl, although as of this blogging they are "just friends". Poor guy, I have the feeling that I'll be seeing him there more often than I want to.
The TM and I finished the night off with a bite at the Awful Waffle. The bartender and the roomates asked us to meet them for drinks at the only bar that was close by and open but it was already late and the day had been long.