Meet the Free Drink Hunter!

Yesterday, bored with my own thoughts I decide to observe some reality drama at the dive bar in my neighborhood. Having been there a handful of times, with a cliental of characters, I am certain it will entertain.

I walk into The Huddle and find a seat at the end of the bar, leering next to me is Warner, an old Austrian man who puts his receding hair in a ponytail. It appears that he has consumed one too many well drinks at the Happy Hour which takes place from 2-5. Avoiding conversation with him, I scan the bar to the pool table where I spot a tall blonde in her mid twenties wearing a black dress that barely covers her butt cheeks. She is over dressed for the neighborhood dive bar. Attached to her is a man who, from one look, I assume she is only with him because he has money. He has out kicked his coverage. At the very least he could remove his Bluetoothe while he grabs her ass.

I ask the bartender, “What is that about?” pointing to the couple. She confirms he, Jeff, is rich. The bar back pipes in that he thinks she is a hooker. I continue to observe them becoming concerned that he is going to nibble her to death in the bar.

Wait, she comes to the bar for a refill on her drink. What kind of glass is that? It’s narrow like a Champaign Flute. Do they even sell that at The Huddle? I hope not. Maybe she brought her own? No it’s too short. Is that…can’t be…yep, looks like red wine in the smallest wine glass ever.

Back to the bartender, “Is she drinking…red wine?” She nods yes. “What kinda red do you have?” She responds, “Not good.” Who is their right mind would order wine in a dive bar? Unless you want to wake up with the Battle of Stalingrad being fought in your head, you should avoid low-cost red wine. It promises a hangover and makes you look cheap. It speaks volumes.

Oh wait Jeff comes by and they step outside. They must be leaving. Looks like my fun is going bye bye. No, she’s back. But he’s not. With all that nibbling and canoodling you would think they were going home together but according to the bartended Jeff had to go home to his girlfriend.

Stranded and scholarship revoked, the leggy blond steals a seat between two middle-aged gentlemen. Hmm…oh, she is looking for another sponsor. I proceed to watch Sara, I later learn her name when she works her way to Angry Allen sitting next to me, flirt with every man in the bar. After hearing her ask two different men, “Do you like my shoes?” I notice she is wearing red stripper pumps with her lace, fairly classy for a barley ass covering, dress.

Too obvious and desperate, Sara is unsuccessful in getting her free drink. In fact, a man buys me a drink just to show her I am more skillful at getting free drinks than her without even trying.

I do not object to accepting, or even angling for, drinks from men. It can be a very fun game. My former roommate and I knew we had are mojo working and integrity in if we were bought at least one free drink a night. Sara’s shoddy execution offends me. It serves as a humiliation to women everywhere. Case in point, I received a free drink for making fun of her.

What do you think of Sara? Of free drinks?