Friday, July 15, 2011

Romeo, Wherefore Art My Rockstar?

I find that when choosing a restaurant to have lunch with my friends Jamie, Chris and Aaron, the conversation always seems to contain the words “two for one.” Generally those words are preceded by “does that place have” and are succeeded by “drink specials.” Today was no different. Our man-outing was to consist of beers, burgers and an assortment of off color sophomoric humor. All of those things occurred, but unfortunately Ruby Tuesday did not have two for one drinks like Chris had assured us. We trusted him, and he let us down. Luckily, our server did not.

We sat around the high-top table in the bar area so we could stay away from the stuffy Sunday church crowd. Yet still we were cautiously raucous as we sat down, ordered our beers and perused the menu.

As men do, we scoped the landscape of our surroundings for women to judge. Behind the bar were two women that could not have been on further ends of the attractiveness spectrum. One was a frumpy girl in her early thirties that wore her hair in a ponytail, and apparently wanted to be judged and tipped solely on the effectiveness of her bartending skills. The other girl was a younger blonde with her shorter hair pinned nicely behind her ears, and her facial features were stern yet appealing. Her overall style and energy said “I'll get you your drink in a minute. For now, enjoy the view.”

We quickly grew tired of the two of them altogether. Three of the four of us are married, and know that although she may be attractive, girls like that are high maintenance and not worth the effort. The fourth (Aaron), was too busy watching the Plasma TV to really notice either one of them.

After we had finished our beers and lunches, our server came back with the checks. He was a gangly guy who looked like he was in his late twenties to early thirties. He didn't quite have that air of desperation and hatred of life that you see in the servers who have spent most of their adult life as servers. The kind that will probably continue serving tables until their arthritic wrists can no longer support a tray full of jalapeno poppers and cheese sticks. No, this guy had a chance. I never looked at his name tag to remember his name, but now I wish I had.

After we had paid our tabs and were quickly preparing to make our way out the door, our server approached us in a hurry. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and hope was glistening in his eyes. He looked right at all of us seemingly at once, and asked, “Hey dude, can you do me a favor?”

We all replied virtually in unison, “What?”

Without hesitation or social awkwardness he said, “See that bartender over there, she said if I get her a Rockstar energy drink in the next fifteen minutes, she'll go out with me.”

With even less hesitation, Aaron said, “Which one, the fat one or the hot one?”

The server laughed and replied, “The blonde” (please note, she was the hot one).

I saw a chance to do my good deed for the day, so I immediately volunteered. How rare is there an opportunity to play cupid for what was obviously a very desperate man? I have never been offered a quest with such an easily obtainable target that would garner an immediately tangible result. I could not pass it up. All I had to do was drive to the corner store, pick up an energy drink, and deliver it to him within the next fifteen minutes. He enthusiastically thanked me, and offered to pay extra for going out of my way for a stranger that just 45 minutes earlier was just another guy wearing a name tag on a food stained shirt.

He gave me directions to the closest corner store, and crammed eight dollars into the palm of my hand. I did the math quickly. $8.00 - $2.50 for the drink = $5.50 profit on this venture. I was set to make back over 50% of the tip I had so recently signed over to him on my credit card receipt. That is a good deed and a good deal. Being both a romantic and cheap skate, this was right up my alley. I took his eight dollars, and went on my way to the corner store. I was on my way to purchase the beverage that would satisfy her thirst, and quench his hunger to go out with a girl that was most definitely out of his league.

I returned fourteen minutes later (just within the fifteen minute deadline she had pinned to this quest). Romeo met me out in the parking lot, and greeted me with the phrase, “Dude, that is some baller shit.” I believe had he been more of a Shakespearean Romeo, his appreciation would have been phrased more poetically. Something like, “Hark, there appearing before me is the libation for which my maiden hath ordered, and when I bestow it upon her, she shall imbibe its contents and hold me close to her bosom with glorious appreciation!” But alas, he went with the “baller shit” line instead.

My thoughts went further into how their Ruby Tuesday romance could be more Shakespearean. How would their courtship have sounded, and would the Rockstar energy drink have been enough to lubricate the turning wheels of her bartending Capulet heart and allow this servant Montague to be her beau?

I imagined the most famous scene from the play; where Juliet appears in her window overlooking the Capulet's orchard and hears Romeo's voice from down below.

But, soft! One Bud Light for yonder table 14.
With its barley and yeast, and Juliet pours the one.
Away, other one, and tend to the empty bottle of Blue Moon,
You are already sick and pale with age,
My maid art far more fair than thee.
To be my lady, O, to be my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her throat is dry and thirsty; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis to me she speaks:
One of the fairest Rockstars with all the energy of heaven,
Is that the business, you'd have me do to prove my worth?
See, how she leans her cheeks upon that stool!
O, that I were the wooden stool that supports her,
That I might touch those cheeks!

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art my Rockstar?
Deny thy manager and refuse thy double shift;
Or, if thou wilt not within 15 minutes, be without my love,
And I'll no longer be your date on morrow's eve.

With love's light wings and the help of a bar patron;
For Ruby Tuesday limits cannot hold love out,
And what eight dollars can do that eight dollars can attempt;
Therefore thy thirst's quench are no let to me.

If he does see fit, he will simply flee.

Alas, there lies more peril in the deep fryer
Than twenty dollars lost: just to look at thou sweetly,
And I have his credit card number for help against his enmity.

I would not for a Red Bull if that is what thee bring here.

Lady, by yonder blessed Plasma TV I swear
That he return with anything but that which you desire

O, swear not by the Plasma TV, and the inconstant channels,
That changes by the second in incessant cycle,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

What shall I swear by?

Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy Rockstar in hand,
Which is the drink of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

My dear?

At what o'clock it is becoming?
Your sentinel I have yet to see.

At the hour of 1:40.

And what if he is to fail: 'tis five minute till then.
I will no longer be in your debt
You will call me on the morrow for our night's adventure,
And I will forget to call thee back.

Let me stand by the door and greet him when he approaches
thou will stand here, and wait anxious for my return.

I shall forget, and give my number to the next caller,
Remembering how you lost my company.

And I'll still stay, lest not have thee forget,
Forgetting any other bartender but thee.

'Tis almost 1:45; I still have not my Rockstar:
Like a poor thirsty maiden without her caffeinated libation,
And with a quick chug I will drink the elixir,
So loving-jealous of its energy.

Hark, here cometh my bro with that which you requested
He has just arrived within his metallic steed
I shall greet him in the parking lot,
And bestow many thanks upon him.
For he has done us both a momentous solid
For which can only henceforth be known,
As some baller shit.

Sweet glory, it is now 1:44 and almost time:
I shall imbibe its contents with much cherishing.
Here, two Bud Lights for table 12! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

1 comment:

  1. I need a check box for mixed feelings. Frankly, my inner-feminist didn't appreciate some parts but then you said "elixir" and I couldn't help but like it a little.