Stuff

Good stuff gets talked about in bars. Loose stuff. Juicy stuff. The stuff that doesn’t feel at home being discussed in a chain restaurant booth over iced tea and fish ‘n’ chips. The good stuff needs a sweating glass of Chardonnay and too rich appetizers. The good stuff needs a safe counter behind which to hide so that one only has to show an anonymous back to the rest of the world.

I was looking for the good stuff. I was looking for a seat at the bar.

I sat two chairs down doing my best to look inconspicuous while casting sneaky, sidelong glances at my bar mates. There were four of them, two sets of two, together, but separate. The first pair, both in their fifties, had an easy, familiar way of moving with and around each other. The man had deconstructed the morning’s full suit; his red print tie loose, his starched shirt showing the day’s relaxation, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his jacket, most likely, abandoned in the office. He was clean shaven, with a good razor as there was no sign of creeping stubble and his graying, curly hair, receding but full, was trimmed carefully around his ears and collar. He sipped slowly from a glass of white.

The woman was slightly sloppy; baggy clothing chosen for comfort not style, hair rumpled, neglected and frayed, lined face free of any makeup. She ate and drank with the freedom of one who just doesn’t care what her companions think. And contributed to the conversation only with a few sharp laughs.

The other pair was just that. A pair. Both trying to look younger than they were. Hair, overly long and overly styled. Makeup, carefully applied but far over the line of obvious. Clothes purchased in the Junior’s department that looked only slightly more comfortable than the too high shoes they wore. They spoke with the verbiage and inflection of teenagers and so similarly, their voices mixed into one girly side of conversation.

I struggled to listen in, speaking low to the bartender when placing my order, trying to tune out her incessant questions of “How is everything?” and “Can I get you anything else?”, trying to chew my salad softly so that the vegetables didn’t fill my head and ears with deafening crunching.

Bits of information started coming through. Man is a lawyer. General practice. He and his wife are regulars, but she’s absent, today. Rumpled woman works with him. Looks like his cousin. And the “girls” look like someone he knows, but can’t place. He asks about their marital status. One’s been single for 15 years. She asks how Man interprets that fact. Man compliments her personality. The other girl has two boyfriends, but that lifestyle is tiring. Still, there is never a dull moment. I get the impression that Man is glad he’s sans wife.

Then, finally, the chit chat, the verbal exploration and flirtation gives way to the good stuff.

Girl: Can you help me clear my record?

Man: When was it?

Girl: 2007.

Their conversation gets lost in the lunchtime voices and kitchen clatter of a busy restaurant. I strain to hear.

Man: You can’t expunge a DUI.

Girl: How about Insulting a Police Officer?

I pretend to watch the television to the right, over the bar, so that I can move my eyes closer to the group. Brett Favre is talking about his win. Girl is explaining why she got that offense tacked on to her DUI. She was handing the policeman paperwork which he said was thrown at him. I can see her hands moving, mimicking the motion, a half toss, half offering. I am picturing the scene less civil, though. I am picturing a drunken, belligerent Girl. I’m pretty sure I was picturing accurately.

Girl: They suspended my license and made me do a driving class. I’ve already finished it. I’m paying my fines, doing the soup kitchen thing and I have an Interlock device.

Man: Is this your second DUI?

Girl: No! I think my lawyer was useless. Everything is so cut and dry with the process. Why does anyone need them when the process is so cut and dry? I think attorneys are useless.

Man defends his profession. Man offers advice. Man offers to help.

Girl: Well, I’ll be all done in November. The device will be out of the car and my community service will be done. So…

Man strikes out.

Good stuff.