Where The Guys Are

So I get a frantic phone call the other night from some other guy named Dan. Unusually for him, he's pretty desperate. He tells me I'm just about his last hope. I argue that I'd feel out of place, don't have anything to wear, need a haircut, my second chin's sporting an eleven-o'clock shadow, I don't wear shoes that don't flaunt my unseemly toes this time of year, I seem to have misplaced my box of Q-Tips for like the last fortnight or so, I haven't tied a tie this decade--the usual--but he's adamant. Offers me a 40% off coupon at a dry cleaner's, says it's time I expand my horizons, there'll be $2 Guinness pints. I say why didn't you say so. He says don't be late. That's how I found myself on the other side of the tracks from the semi-weekly-or-is-it-monthly Oddfellows meeting, way on the other side, at a bar simply called The Bar, at the weekly meeting of the Regular Guys.

Let Me Be Frank About It checks my ID at the door and scoffs. "You should trade names with this guy," and introduces me to Sloppy Joe, who looks like I usually do when I'm not so gussied up. I find a seat at the bar and order a pint from some guy named Moe. Next to me are Yesiree Bob and No Way Jose, carrying on some kind of existential argument that will go on all night; Bob ends up buying all their rounds. By and by the entertainment strikes up--Joe Blow on a solo tuba. No Shit Sherlock drops by to tell me I'm sitting in a bar while You Don't No Jack holds court and whips everybody's ass over at the Trivia Contest. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the place hits up everyone else, asking if they'd like to be the fourth in their golf outing next Tuesday. I spy Tricky Dick pickpocketing Peter and then telling Paul, "Here's that twenty I owe you." Uncle Sam and John Bull are over in the corner arguing about tea while John Q. Public stands in the middle of the joint saying hello to everybody. As the bar clock hits the hour mark Steady Eddie does another shot. Even Steven is here, but nobody can find Waldo. Johnny Boy comes in carrying a surfboard, but Charlie shoos him away and he leaves. We hardly knew him. By this time I have to hit the head and am rather disconcerted that the guy next to me at the urinals seems to have wandering eyes. I close up shop quickly and pass Yesiree Bob on his way in. I hear Bob say, "Hey Tom, how's the squint tonight?" Back at the bar I find Kilroy's been there and all the guys are taking up a collection for Pete's sake. I throw in a couple bucks and get my ass outta there, tearing off my clip-on tie as soon I can.