It was 3:45 pm on a Friday afternoon when I met them. Spoleto, a local, city-wide artsy festival had been pillaging downtown for the better part of a week, keeping the bar busy with ridiculously difficult drink-ordering artistic types. The kind of people that ask what type of wood the muddler is made of or where the olives used to garnish drinks are grown and if we have a good relationship with the grower of said olives. "They come in a jar and I don't know what a muddler is" usually lets them know that if a drink requires more than two ingredients, I don't know how to make it or my ace in the hole, "We're out of that."
They were 3 middle aged, well dressed guys who came in to do business. They were thirsty and had the mentality of a few fraternity bros pre-gaming before a function.
Guy 1: "We don't need menus, what do you have on tap."
Guy 2: "Let me get a Basil Hayden on the rocks."
Guy 3: "Can I have your house savignon blanc?"
Insert the sound of a record scratching the music to a halt as Guy 1 and Guy 2 turn and look at Guy 3 as though he had just shot a bald eagle or said he didn't like the movie Rudy while admitting he liked soccer.
Guy 3: "What!? I like white wine. Get over it."
After Guys 1 and 2 finished berating him with questions of his sexual orientation and true gender I stepped in and offered the consolation: "I'll pour you a man-sized glass, how about that."
It was a breath of fresh air from the types of people I had been dealing with all day. I found out they were all in the higher echelon of a massive marketing and advertising company out of Atlanta, and were in Charleston for business/pleasure. They cracked jokes and laughed at the movie quotes I implemented in the conversation.
Me: "What trouble are you guys getting into tonight?"
Guy 3: "Ah some old lady's house for some dinner thing. We didn't know if there would be booze there so we snuck away from the wives to fuel up."
Me: "Sounds fancy. Another glass of wine?"
Guy 2: "Yea, another glass of wine?"
Guy 1: "Cool drink Guy 3, does it come in hetero?"
He looked at me, laughing at the antics and trying not to spill his wine, for some sort support.
Me: "Poor guy's in the trenches takin' grenades over here. Wine actually has more kick per capita than beer."
Guy 3: "OHHHHHH suck it!"
After discussing the male to female ratio of Charleston, Tim Duncan's future with San Antonio and how the Wildcat offense had run its course and was no longer a viable offensive option in the NFL, Guy 2 received a phone call.
Guy 2: "Hey honey. Yea we're at a bar. A BAR. What? I know what time it is. Huh? I'll be ready. My clothes are already laid out. We'll be ready! Honey it's just a few drinks, Guy 3's drinking WINE, that like, doesn't even count. Ok. Ok. Huh? OK OK!"
He looked at his phone and sighed with childlike disappointment.
Guy 2: "Guys, they're coming in hot."
Guy 1: "There goes the fun."
Guy 3: "Let's chug and meet just meet them at the room."
Me: "Man I can't wait to get married."
Guy 3: "Hey real quick, what are some good bars we can go out to after this shindig, the girls will be down like Frasier by 11:15 and we brought our drinking hats."
Me: "I've got you bro. Here's a list."
Me: "These are my favorite spots, all within walking distance. Don't let me see yall's faces in the paper tomorrow, this isn't Vegas.....or is it? Shots?"
They left with two bottles of white wine, five bourbons and six shots of Fireball whiskey obliterating their upper-middle class livers. I didn't see them in the paper the next morning, but that's probably because it's a dead form of media and I get 90% of my news from Twitter, but here's hoping Guys 1, 2 and 3 had a good night out in the Holy City.