Last night was one of those nights; the slow ones. The nights where time nearly stops and the clock has only moved two minutes since the last time you looked. Normally, it’s BAM six more hours to work; BAM four more; BAM one and a half; BAM done. But last night was like punching in and out on a calendar based on a sundial. It was Hell. Yes, of course I was hung-over but it was a different equation than that; hangovers have a time-space continuum of their own. This was just a slow fucking day. The kind of day that makes you appreciate stupid questions, light beer drinkers, and yes even frozen drinks. The kind of day that makes you absolve the tourists and actually miss the damned regulars you bitch about. It was also a day of low tips but it was more than that too. It was a day in which I was reminded that bartending is at least partly those on the other side of the bar. Don’t worry, I get this way for a day or two and then some bum shits on the bathroom floor and I’m back to my old self.

There are two types of drinkers: Those who drink and those who drink Light Beer. Hey, I know you’re watching your calories but come on already. Low carb, low cal, low tongue sensitivity, low self-esteem; whatever your reason…just stop it. Have a real beer, they taste so much better and they aren’t worse for you. Really, I promise. You might have a few more carbs or calories to contend with but so what? You’re drinking, try to enjoy more than just the buzz or stay at home and sip on a Zima. And is there some law that says that if you drink Light Beer you have to smoke Light Cigarettes? Are you hoping for Cancer Light? It doesn’t come in that brand. Plus, you’ve read the labels: Light Cigarettes are not safer. So, again, if you’re worried about having less TAR in your lungs, quit fucking smoking; none of it is healthy. If you say you like the taste better than you’re lying. In the end, smoke what you want just don’t turn your nose up at me when all I have is the red pack. And never get uppity because you’re from a long line of same brand Light Beer drinkers. There are people trying to enjoy a real drink with adults.

Have you ever been to a bar where the bartenders juggle the bottles? I’m not talking about in Las Vegas—anything goes in Vegas plus they’re really good at it there. I am talking about these chains who insist their bartenders pretend to be trained seals for the glee of people who couldn’t get tickets to Leno. I was in one the other day for reasons I still can’t understand nor explain. It was early afternoon and I was lucky enough to witness the B-Squad Bartenders getting in a little practice. I just wanted to have a stiff Long Island Iced Tea to kill the headache from the night before. I didn’t need Dim and Half the Wit brothers, fumble-fucking their way through a bad circus routine with all five top-shelf bottles. They dropped three. Only one broke but it also shattered two glasses that managed to spray all over me. I flicked glass shards off and looked at the bottle of Crown Royal, spilling its lifeblood across the tiled floor. At least I got a free drink. I stayed for one more round—a rum and coke. Nobody got hurt and they poured in a little extra rum.

If I ever have to juggle bottles for a living, I might. I already bartend for a living. But if I have to do both of them…kill me. And if you do them both, do us all a favor and practice at home. I’ll tip; I swear.