This room had the feel of a cozy club, but there were actually more patrons here, smoking, drinking, passing familiar conversation and tossing darts at a board in a corner. This bar was also enlivened by a lazy, crackling fireplace\u2014and a dog.<\/p>\n
The huge black creature lumbered out of the smoky haze like the Hound of the Baskervilles and clamped his jaws over my hand. I panicked until I realized he wasn\u2019t biting down. Nonetheless he had me firmly in tow\u2014I followed him to the bar without argument.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet him go Rudy\u2014he doesn\u2019t look like a terrorist,\u201d said a voice in the far corner. To general laughter, the dog released me and curled up in front of the deep fireplace. \u201cRudy\u2019s our social director,\u201d said a sandy-haired man hiding behind a tall glass. His hair grew straight out of his head in several directions. \u201cAs long as we have him, we\u2019ll never be lonely.\u201d<\/p>\n
The others snickered as I took them in. Two boys of about fourteen were playing cards in a booth. At the bar, I counted a rail-thin gent of at least 80, a 60-ish woman with a wire brush of silver hair, a thick-waisted fellow in a sailor\u2019s hat who seemed joined with her at the hip and a thirtyish Liberal Arts professor beneath a thick beard and cable-knit sweater. The rest were wearing coats inside despite the fire. Apparently all Irish heaters were as effective as the ones at Emily\u2019s house.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019ll you have?\u201d said the ancient gentleman, stepping off his stool.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019ll have a Guinness.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet him speak for himself.\u201d<\/p>\n
I usually drink wine but this really didn\u2019t seem like a wine kind of place. \u201cGuinness sounds fine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019 I tell yeh?\u201d Sandy-hair pronounced, to resounding murmurs from the rest. The place was a pocket of white man\u2019s gospel\u2014every phrase requiring affirmation, echo, call-and-response, accompanied by quality beer at a reasonable price. The old gent worked his way laboriously around the bar\u2014his gummy hips reminded me of Dyson\u2014placed a glass under the tap and began filling it. He took it halfway and popped the tap, letting it sit until the head went down.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019re you from?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNew York,\u201d I answered and they all hushed.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d someone said and I nodded in thanks. The old lady pointed to a corner next to the fireplace. I walked over and discovered the Shrine. A glass case held two NYFD firefighter helmets, an NYPD cap, a yellow emergency jacket, axe and several front pages (NY Daily News, Irish Times and NY Times) from 9\/12. A veneer of dust coated the top of the case, but someone had spent a good deal of time arranging the items inside and securing them in place.<\/p>\n
\u201cSome of our boys went over to help in the cleanup,\u201d someone said. \u201cJohnny Regan\u2019s boy was over there for three months.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d I said, again the ambassador. \u201cThank him for me.\u201d We all spoke in hushed tones as though it had happened the week before. A year and a half, I thought, and it hasn\u2019t disappeared here any more than at home.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd to whom does this orphan belong?\u201d came the voice from behind the bar, that Maureen O\u2019Hara coloratura. I turned and the barmaid was there with those big green eyes and a mischievous expression on her lips, one that suited the voice perfectly.<\/p>\n
I knew she had to be striking, just from the sound of her and she was. She had a face out of an Irish portrait gallery, a face that had surely appeared in Ireland for 10,000 years in an unbroken line. An upturned nose and a narrow mouth, auburn hair with blonde streaks for modernity, skin opaque white between freckles. Her face was a riot of laughlines; her shape curved nicely but without advertising itself. She was attractive rather than beautiful, if you were being objective. But I never had a moment\u2019s objectivity about her. I wanted her instantly, without a moment\u2019s attempt at understanding. Actually, I knew at that moment that I\u2019d wanted her before<\/em> I\u2019d ever laid eyes on her.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s mine\u2014I intend to adopt him,\u201d I answered, a bit dizzied. She filled the glass slowly to keep the head from stealing too much of the drink.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll provide him a good home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith your help, I\u2019ll at least provide him the company of his own kind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou seem suitable,\u201d she said, pushing the glass in front of me.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s an American.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve got ears. Doesn\u2019t look like an American, though. Where\u2019s your guns?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLeft \u2018em home. Ran out of bullets.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019s your bag o\u2019 money?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t use money anymore. We\u2019re going to conquer the world on credit.\u201d<\/p>\n We were both grinning\u2014this was fun. Suddenly, I was having fun<\/em>. Hell, I was on my vacation<\/em>. I almost swooned at the thought.<\/p>\n The barmaid stepped out into the room. \u201cHow\u2019s my little lover?\u201d she cried, her voice rising two octaves. The Hound of the Baskervilles roused himself instantly and jumped, his paws to her shoulders, licking her face. They could have been dancing. Emily was right\u2014the whole country was animal crazy.<\/p>\n Of course, this also gave me\u2014and any of the others who cared to\u2014a chance to admire her shape and a nice one it was too, the kind of sleek curves that always make me aware of my breathing. She popped back behind the counter for a moment and returned with a dish shallow with beer. She laid it on the floor in front of the fireplace. The dog lapped it up, then settled in front of the fireplace glassy-eyed and began to snore lightly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe has a condition,\u201d said sandy-hair.<\/p>\n \u201cA condition that responds to beer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t want him to respond,\u201d the bristly-haired woman said and everyone laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes anyone have a cigarette?\u201d the barmaid said. \u201cI need a cigarette.\u201d No one moved.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re not helpin\u2019 her,\u201d said sailor hat to me, taking a drag on his own.<\/p>\n \u201cI smoke the organic ones\u2014they don\u2019t have so much chemicals,\u201d she explained. \u201cBut the store doesn\u2019t have them today. So I need something.\u201d She picked up a cocktail twizzler, stuck it between her teeth and sucked hard. The others tittered.<\/p>\n A man a few years older than me hobbled in from the front on crutches. \u201cHello Bill,\u201d the barmaid piped.<\/p>\n \u201cHello Jilly m\u2019girl. Where is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s settling,\u201d she said, inclining her head toward the tap. \u201cJust a minute.\u201d I don\u2019t know how the pint got there\u2014either she knew he was coming or she always kept one waiting, which wasn\u2019t a bad idea, actually.<\/p>\n \u201cAnyone know what won the 2 O\u2019clock at Mallow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Memory.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOoh that smarts,\u201d said Bill, taking a stool and flapping his arms like a pelican. \u201cIt\u2019s brass monkey weather out.\u201d The group shivered in sympathy.<\/p>\n There were lots of glances thrown at the fire but no one willing to leave the bar to get closer to it. Jill (this was apparently the barmaid\u2019s name) set the beer in front of him and Bill slurped it down in a few gulps.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you m\u2019dear,\u201d he said and started clomping his crutches out toward the front.<\/p>\n \u201cMaking progress?\u2019 Jill asked as he disappeared.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease God.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll be months yet,\u201d said Sweaterman once Bill had rounded the corner. He was leaning across the barmaid now, who didn\u2019t seem to mind.<\/p>\n \u201cHe fell,\u201d she explained, turning to me. \u201cNo, that\u2019s not so. A wall fell on him<\/em>, to put a point to it. He was building a wall and it came down all at once. And he\u2019s not healing right for some reason. He should have been off crutches in September. And him a man who likes to move around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t we all?\u201d said Sweaterman.<\/p>\n \u201cNot all so much as you\u2014or Bill,\u201d Jill answered, eyes flashing.<\/p>\n She was flirting with him and flirting with me. And over the course of the next ten minutes, I watched her proceed to charm the room. Five new men came through the doors in that time and, with the exception of the boys in the booth, who remained glued to their cards, Jill kept us all in line, lost in her wide eyes and insinuating voice, the way she sniped at our stories and took us down a peg\u2014but just one or two, like a spirited girlfriend would.<\/p>\n Every glance she threw me made me puff up like a blowfish. The look in her eyes said I was special<\/em>, that I\u2019d touched her, that she looked forward to my little glances far more than the ones she was sharing with every other man in the place. And somehow, knowing\u2014seeing\u2014that they felt exactly the same didn\u2019t diminish our connection one bit.<\/p>\n There was a lull as the place thinned back to the original group. \u201cWhy is the building divided up like this?\u201d I asked. \u201cIt\u2019s a strange arrangement, all these little rooms and everyone in the back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a very favorable arrangement,\u201d said sweaterman.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen the boss starts looking for ya,\u201d added the old lady and they all cackled. And I got it, looking around. The place was a labyrinth. If you wanted to sneak a pint during the day and you just kept moving from room to room, it would be nigh on impossible for anyone to find you. Alcoholism as architecture. I wondered what Russian<\/em> bars looked like.<\/p>\n I finished my drink. The other barmaid was behind the counter. \u201cI should get back to my friends,\u201d I said, pulling five Euro from my wallet.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s paid for,\u201d the ancient gentleman said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo please,\u201d I stuttered.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t insult a man your grandfather\u2019s age,\u201d he told me and I wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This room had the feel of a cozy club, but there were actually more patrons here, smoking, drinking, passing familiar conversation and tossing darts at a board in a corner. This bar was also enlivened by a lazy, crackling fireplace\u2014and …<\/span> Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":85,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-455","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/455","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=455"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/455\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":456,"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/455\/revisions\/456"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/85"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tedkrever.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=455"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}