'Drunken' Strangers in the Night

Some of the best conversations I've had have been with strangers. Usually drunken older men at a bar. No matter what country I'm in I've always been able to find the guys that just want to talk. We've all go stories to tell and that person across the room from you that looks like he would have nothing interesting to say has a lot more to say than you might think. I know this sounds like a relatively basic concept but some people just don't understand it. Take a chance and talk to the old drunk man that wants you to sit down next to him. He's got an interesting story and if you're lucky he might just buy you a drink.

This weekend I was in a club with a good number of other Americans. Some of us got to talking to some of the locals and soon found ourselves invited to a private birthday party upstairs. I didn't go up right away but when I did I found a slightly intoxicated older man that kept inviting people to sit next to him and make toasts with him to honor his friend, whose birthday party it was. His friend was also passed out at the head of the table. I took a chance and sat down. We had a nice chat in the local language about where I was living and why they were celebrating. After chatting, drinking and of course toasting we became fast friends. He was actually quite entertaining and a really nice guy. He was just a bit physical which usually would have pushed me to keep my distance but this time I just put my arm around him and kept talking. We decided that we were probably brothers.

I had been watching some of the other guys from our group sit down with him but they were only staying long enough to share a glass of his wine or a shot of his vodka before they got up to stand back away from the drunken party. This is part of the reason that the guy kept inviting people to sit with him. There was always an empty seat next to him. He also spoke English very well and with all of us native speakers around he wanted to practice a bit.

After I sat down the other guys in our group realized that I wasn't getting up. I think to them it looked like I was hogging the free booze source and not rotating through like a proper gentleman. So one of the Americans squeezed into the seat on the other side of me. He had already sat down earlier with my new found drunken brother but he was going in for a second round, this time from with me as a safety barrier from the touching. Our host filled both mine and his own glasses with more wine from the endless pitcher. (Seriously I don't think it's possible for the wine to ever completely empty from these magical pitchers!) He didn't offer any to the other American, which I took as a sign that there are no second chances at this table.

The American reached for the pitcher of wine thinking that maybe he was just forgotten. Our host reached over and pulled the wine out of his reach and only said, 'No.' Then turned back to me and proposed a toast to our brotherhood. To be fair the other American had only been in country for about a week and still hadn't learned much about the culture, so he was a bit confused. The American, not wanting to give up quite yet, asked if he could have some of the vodka. That is what he was offered last time and maybe only the wine was off limits except for special guests. Our host told him that there was no more vodka. There was actually a half-full bottle in the middle of the table just past our host. I'm not sure if he was just too drunk to realize there actually was vodka left, or if he really no longer wanted this other man with us at our long awaited reunion. The other American went with the 2nd option and got up and walked away. Leaving us to toast a few more times to our lives and the lives of our families which must be somehow related.

I'm not trying to say that this other American was not as skilled as I am in the art of getting free drinks from drunk men at the bar. Although it is a great skill to have, even if it can make you feel a bit dirty. But I think he just wasn't willing to take the time to talk to this drunken stranger for a minute. I think had he opened up a bit and gave our drunken host a chance he might have seen that there is an actual person under that drunken armor. Sure he may have offered me an assortment of drugs that he could hook me up with and then told me that I shouldn't ever trust anyone trying to sell me drugs in a club, including himself, but damn it I enjoyed talking to the man.

Next time that drunken man offers you a drink and puts his arm around you, maybe kisses you on the cheek, just relax and give him a chance. You might learn something, or you might meet a long lost brother!

The Taste of Smoke

I hear so many people say, 'kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray.' I don't know if I necessarily believe that. Not always, but sometimes there is something about a woman smoking that makes me more interested in her. Not that I find smoking attractive, that's not the point here. But there is something intriguing about a person that is smoking even though they know it's bad for them. Seriously, who doesn't know that those little paper sticks with a ton chemicals and the slightest bit of tobacco crammed into them, are bad for us? I'm pretty sure that most people around the world know it.

I'm not exactly sure what it is, but sometimes, especially after I have a few drinks in me, I don't mind having a cigarette of my own, or the occasional cigar. Ok again off the topic here.

I walk into a bar, or maybe you walk into a bar. I sit down and see you, or maybe you sit down and then I see you. Either way I see you. Without you doing anything, I'm attracted to you. Maybe it's the way your genes have made you look, or maybe I feel that you have class from seeing the way you dress, most likely it's just that you are showing a bit more skin than the other girls around my gazing range. I'm attracted to you just by sight. (See I'm not saying that smoking is attractive, well maybe I am, but it's more of something that adds to the intriguing attractiveness and not attractive in itself.) You reach into your pocket, purse, bag, ask a friend, ask a stranger, or ask the bartender. Anyway you end up with a cigarette in your hand. It gets lit, by you, a friend, or maybe a handsome dark gentleman that happened to be watching you just slightly more than I am. You take a drag, laugh, smile, comment, joke. Really I don't know what you're doing because I haven't approached you yet and may never. But something about you having that cigarette in your hands, seeing the smoke come out of your mouth...it makes me want to talk to you. It makes me want to kiss you. I want to taste the lingering smoke on your lips and tongue.

But I don't. Instead I sit on my stool, chair, bench, or just keep my place at the bar. Why? Who knows? Probably for a variety of reasons. My culture has told me that I should shun you. That I should seek out others who aren't tainted with the taste of those evil little cancer sticks. Someone who 'knows better than to smoke'. I'm pretty sure you know better. It says right on the package that their bad for you. Unless you're illiterate, you can probably figure out that a cigarette is not the healthiest thing for you. When I point you out to my friends the usual response is, 'Yeah she's hot, but she's smoking. Do you really want to hook up with a smoker?'

I still want to kiss you and taste the stale smoke on your lips.