I have gone from never having been in a cop car, to having been in a cop car twice in one week.
Every time something crazy happens at my bar, I think to myself,
‘Now I’ve seen it all.’
But based on the number of times I’ve said that, I have NOT seen it all.
Friday night is going smoothly. The bar is full. There’s a group of three people, two men and a woman all in their forties. They’re typical customers, they’re nursing two drinks for three hours. Finally they pay and leave. Then people pour up to the bar, everyone starts telling the same story,
“Someone broke the window of the record store next door! It was three people: a white haired guy, another guy and an Asian woman. The guy smashed the window! Were they at the bar?”
“Yes they were at the bar.” And thank goodness I couldn’t have over-served them if I wanted to.
Poor record store. I’m not sure why they didn’t go out of business thirty years ago, but they didn’t and now they have a broken window. The cops arrive. One approaches the bar, I say,
“I’d offer you a drink…”
“And in a different era I would’ve loved to have one.”
“Do you mind coming out to my car to look at some photos?”
“Not at all.”
I slip into the front seat. I exclaim for the second time this week,
“This is so exciting.”
The cop nods in agreement and reminds me,
“As long as you’re not in the back.”
My manager comes outside as I’m getting out of the car. He says,
“This is not what I expected to see.”
My mom arrives after the front door is locked. The cop car is still parked out front. I let my mom in and tell her the whole story. She says,
“I thought he was waiting to give you a ride home.”
God, Jess! I thought you worked at a nice bar in Cambridge, not in some dive bar in Southie:))