Sunday, March 4, 2012

How I Met Mr. Yardbird - Part 5

To get caught up: 
Part 1 - Click Here
Part 2 - Click Here
Part 3 - Click Here
Part 4 - Click Here

*****************************************************************************


Dear 18+ year old Hammy,

So after your dad confirmed he was single, he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him, right?

No.

He jumped up from his stool and pointed his finger in my direction and said "Ah ha! You are the girl of my dreams!"

Nope, not even that.

The truth it after he left that night, I didn't see your dad very much after that.

I mean, I didn't see your dad for a few days. But for me, that was light years.

I was the giddy girl waiting for him to pop in with his friends, but he never showed up. I picked up shifts, I worked doubles. I offered to sweep all the floors in the bar so I would look fit, so he would think, man, she works out - the next time he saw me. And that was exhausting.

Where was he??

Well, one weekend night I was stuck in the middle section of the inside of the house. I hated this section of the house and I can't remember why.

It was before the mad rush and I was flipping through my notebook to find the next empty page to write on, when it looked like some people were starting to sit in my section.

4 people, not a bad start. But then, I saw one of the guys in the group hop on over to a table nearby and before I knew he was dragging tables together. He was dragging every table he could get his hands on except for the ones near the windows.

And just about five minutes after that, 19 people walked in and the table dragger waved them over as if they had to look far for the never-ending table.

Ham, I felt like I was the barmaid in a medieval mead hall serving 23 warriors before they slayed the big dragon.

23 beer drinking warriors with separate checks.

Everyone was talking at once, shouting really, I could barely understand them and by the time I had served one person and made my way completely around the table they were slamming their empty glass on the table. It was time for another. In fact, it was time for another twenty minutes ago.

I was mad. I was flustered. Beads of sweat were popping up on my forehead and I'm sure, though I never had time to check, my hair was doing the curl thing on the sides like does when it's damp outside.

If your dad was going to show up this would be the worst possible time, right?

Right.




No comments: