"I haven't seen it all, but if you Venn Diagram what I've seen, heard, and smelled, you'll have a pretty fair subset of the whole," says Joaquin as he fidgets a battered black pipe around his mouth. He prefers his metaphors mathematical and his music indigenous. "I've seen Lola when she was Larry, heard avowals the morning would never cover, and smelled more rats than Pi has digits. I've even felt the presence of Lucifer one night at that end of the bar and the presence of the Angel Gabriel at the other end, simultaneously, but I keep my confidences so you won't be hearing that story."
One story I do hear concerns a young Irishman who walked into the bar one Thursday afternoon back in the late 1980s. "He was a young guy, with one of those spherical Irish faces. I'd have carded him, but you don't insult an Irishman like that. He sat down by himself on a stool about a third of the way down the bar and ordered three pints of Guinness. Polite. I draw the three pints and set them down, one in front of him, one on either side of him, then I had to go yell at Bunsen to switch out the Goebel keg. Next time I notice him he's finished his pint and started on the one to his left, still sitting all alone. I punch up some Flaco on the jukebox and go over and ask the guy if he wants anything to eat. 'No thank you, sir,' he says, with that beautiful hard T those Irish have: 'No tank you.' I liked him ever since I heard that. Anyway, time passes, Bunsen breaks another wine glass and I take the opportunity to kick his ass as he's bending over to whisk the shards, and when I notice again, the Irish guy's three-eighths through the last Guinness, still all alone. Now I see people get stood up all the time, but this guy took it all in stride. Just sat there peacefully taking his time drinking all three pints. Eventually he settles up, gives me a nice tip, and wishes me a good day. 'Giving up on your buddies?' I say. 'What's tat?' 'The two folks you were going to meet?' I say, lifting up the two empties on either side of him. 'Ah no. Meeting nobody. Just having a wee bit meself.' He smiled and walked out."
Bunsen comes out of the kitchen carrying two cases of Budweiser and starts loudly re-stocking a cooler. Joaquin works on his pipe with a sharp metal object.
"A week later, another afternoon, the guy walks in again, pleasant as before. Sits at roughly the same stool and orders three pints. Well, Bunsen had had to nip out to the track that day, so things were pretty calm in here. I said to the guy, 'I'll pour you one and keep my eye on you. Get you another fresh one when you're ready.'
"'Tank you, sir,' he says, 'but I prefer all tree at one time. You see I've got two brothers and we're all scattered. Seamus is back in Sligo and Declan's in Melbourne. Australia, not Florida. So every Tursday at the same time, tree for me, eight at night for Seamus, and seven in the morning for Declan--he works nights--we sit down where we are and have a pint for each of us. Keeps us together.'
"Well, let me tell you. I sponsor Bunsen and all his walk-a-thons, but nothing touched me like that. Three brothers drinking each other's health at the same time every week around the globe. A ting of beauty, you might say. So I pull the three pints, set them up, and I notice. The guy picks up the first one, offers a quick toast, and starts to drink. When he's finished with that he picks up the second, offers a quick toast, and starts to drink. With the third one, he picks it up, pats his heart, and starts to drink. When he's finished, he settles up, tips me good, tells me to have a good day, and walks out. Sure enough, the next Thursday, right at three, he walks in and I draw three Guinness. Every Thursday this goes on. I could set the clocks by him, if the clocks weren't all fifteen minutes fast. I get to know him. A cardinal number of a guy. Prime. Polite, funny, a true gentleman. Rory's his name, though he spelled it R-U-A-I-R-I. Ruairi. 'I don't know,' he laughed when he told me. 'Me mum was in a vowel mood when she had me.' This goes on for two years. Every Thursday, three o'clock. Never missed one. The week before Thanksgiving I'd give him a four-pack of those Guinness cans, because we're closed, tell him to have one for me. He tells me all about Seamus, the good son, takes care of the mother. He regales me with all of Declan's crazy antics. I teach him American football, he teaches me all about Irish music. No Clannad shit, the real thing. He makes some noise about his brothers coming over for a visit, and I tell you, I got misty-eyed thinking about pulling three Guinness for the three brothers, in the flesh, sitting at my bar. The guy even makes friends with Bunsen, which as you know, is like solving an equation with too many unknown variables. You put up with a lot of shit in this job,' Joaquin knocks his pipe on the bar, 'but a Ruairi here and there makes it all worthwhile. Yes.'"
Joaquin walks down to the end of the bar to tend to a couple college loudmouths. Then he jerks the peanut machine around, wipes a few imaginary spots off one of the taps, and comes back to me. "So one Thursday, a gray February, I'll never forget it, Ruairi comes in, sits down, and I start drawing the pints. 'Only two today, Joaquin. Tanks.' I fold like a square kicked into a trapezoid. I set the two pints down in front of him and slink away, feeling awful and then take it out on Bunsen for not keeping the bar napkins well-stocked. Ruairi's the only one in the bar, and I can't say anything to him the whole time. I keep myself busy cleaning things I never clean, bitching at Bunsen for being Bunsen. It's awful. Finally, as I see he's got just a fraction of the second pint left, I go over and say, 'Ruairi, I'm terribly sorry. My condolences.'
"He looked spooked. 'Don't tell me you're closing the bar, Joaquin.'
"'Close this place? Never, Ruairi.'
"'Then why so sad? You've been sulking all day today, Joaquin.'
'Well, you know. Every week, three pints. Today only two. One of your brothers must have died. I'm so sorry. Was it Declan?'
'No, Joaquin. Declan's fine. Nobody died. I've just given up drinking.'"
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