Happy Hour

“Who is getting the next round?” Jimmy asked loudly enough for most of the bar to hear. “I think it is your turn Frank,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Frank said.

“Hey Charlie, the next round is on Frank.”

“You got it Jimmy,” the bartender answered. O’Dougan’s Pub had been Jimmy’s favorite watering hole for a few years and he had gotten to know Charlie the bartender pretty well. He poured a good drink and was pretty good with the small talk. Jimmy liked him.

It was a pretty typical Friday night in Washington DC. Many of the nine to fivers were eating free appetizers, drinking reduced price drinks and complaining about their jobs. Jimmy and his coworkers were no different. They all worked for a government contractor and there was never a shortage of things to complain about in government work. Six of them had decided to go out for some drinks after work. Jimmy had recommended the pub.

Jimmy Walsh pretty much led your typical, every day, American life. He got up every morning and went to work. Put in the obligatory 10 hour day and, most of the time, ate his microwave dinner watching a mindless program in front of his TV. It had been years since he dated anyone regularly and by all standards, he led a pretty boring life.

Lately he had been working too hard and needed a break. It’s been months since Jimmy was out drinking. He figured he was due a good night's drunk. Might as well be tonight. He was already well on his way anyhow so why not go the final mile. Besides, he could walk the 1000 yards to his crappy one bedroom apartment no matter how drunk he was.

“Let's have some shots,” one of his coworkers said.

“Make mine tequila, Charlie,” Jimmy said.

Two hours, five drinks and four shots of tequila later, Jimmy had reached his objective. He was now drunk. Jimmy knew that he was going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret the last few hours but he didn't care by now. He began to wonder if he would even remember the walk home.

“I got to hit the head,” Jimmy said.

It wasn't until the trip back from the bathroom that he noticed the man at the end of the bar. He was sitting alone, drinking a beer and eating a sandwich. Jimmy thought how nondescript this man really looked. He wasn’t talking with anyone and seemed content to not be noticed. Jimmy couldn’t place it, but something about the man looked familiar.

Jimmy approached him and asked, “Hey mister, do I know you?”

“I don't think so,” said the man.

“Man, you sure look familiar. It could be all the tequila I have had. Maybe we met in Mexico once, huh?”

“I don't think so,” said the man with a smile. “I have never been there and I don't drink tequila.”
“Must be my mistake. Have a good night.” The man nodded and Jimmy headed back to his coworkers. Jimmy was sure he knew the man, but he decided to chalk it up to a drunken mirage and just go back to his drink.

When he got back to his party, he was greeted with another shot of tequila. Jimmy drank it down. He put the shot glass back on the bar and walked directly back over to the man at the end of the bar.

“Look, my coworkers don’t know anything, so you don’t need to involve them.” Jimmy said quietly to the man.

“Excuse me?”

“I am telling you that I am still clean and that they don’t know anything.” Jimmy was starting to slur his words now.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You don’t have to worry, I am not out of control. Project Gift Package is still a go.”

Charlie had worked his way down to this end of the bar. “Is everything OK mister? Hey Jimmy, maybe it is time to call it a night, huh?”

“Yeah Charlie, maybe you are right. Have a good night.” Jimmy stared into the eyes of the man for a few seconds and then walked away.

“Goodnight Jimmy.” Charlie said.

Jimmy waved his hand in the air without turning around. He walked to the front door and headed home without saying goodbye to his coworkers.

“Sorry, mister. Jimmy is a good guy, but when he has too much to drink, he starts to say some crazy stuff. I hope he didn’t bother you to much.”

“No, no, he was fine. Do you mind if I get my check?” replied the man.

“Coming right up.”

The man paid his check, put on his coat and headed out of the bar. As he hit the street he pulled out his cell phone and pressed speed dial number one.

“Yeah, it's me. The rumor is true. Subject 14 seems to have some memories.”

“No, I don’t think termination is required. He seems to only remember under extreme intoxicated conditions.”

“Yes sir, we will continue to watch him.”

“Yes sir, I am aware how important he is to the project. I understand the security risks, but I think we can control the situation.”

“I will terminate should it become necessary, sir.” He hung up his phone.

Through The Glass

I stared into my glass of bourbon trying to see my future. A future, I hoped, was brighter than my past. A future that didn’t involve pain and heartache. A future that didn’t make me want to jump in front of the subway train every day. A future I wanted to live in.

Staring into my glass, I couldn’t see my future, all I could see was my past. A past I had spent the last few months trying to escape. Running from my mistakes, trying to forget my stupidity. The most important thing in my life walked out the door three months ago. Funny, I hadn’t realized how important she was before today. Before the 90 days before today. Before the day she left. If I had, then maybe I wouldn’t be alone in a bar, staring into a glass of bourbon, trying to find a reason to get up and go on with my life.

I suddenly realized that I had been sitting, motionless for a long time. The awkwardness of the moment struck me and I looked around the bar. It wasn’t that crowded and I was sure that most of the people had noticed that I had just been sitting there with a glazed look on my face. I didn’t know these people, so I wasn’t that worried about what they thought of the strange man, sitting at the end of the bar, staring into his glass. Besides, this was the kind of bar where people came to forget their past.

I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror. My reflection looked back at me with a sad, disapproving look. He wasn’t sad because of what I had lost. He was sad because of what I had become. Sad because he was forced to watch me waste away in self pity. Sad because he knew I was drowning in my past. Sad because he knew that I still had a future full of surprises and happiness that I was refusing to see.

As he stared at me and I stared back at him, for the first time, I realized that my life was not behind me. My life was in front of me. I realized that my future was not tied to my past. And I knew that I wasn’t going to find my future in this glass of bourbon. My future was out there, outside this bar.

I pushed the glass of bourbon away and got up. Threw some money on the bar and walked toward the front door. As I approached the end of the bar, I glanced into to the mirror. My reflection was smiling. The kind of satisfied smile you get when you know a friend has turned a corner. Knowing that, in that moment, their life has forever changed. Nodding my head, I smiled back.