Sitting At The Bar

great dive bar in lower garden district, New O...
Image via Wikipedia

I usually have such good luck.

Not tonight. It was the end of the fireworks — 200,000 happy Vancouverites having thronged the beaches to watch them from a barge in the harbor. I sidled up to my hotel bar and found myself next to the most boring person I have ever met.

Ever.

“I can’t believe how hot it is here,” he said; he being a contractor from a suburb of San Francisco. “I thought Canada had perpetual winter.”

Normally, I smile indulgently. Not this time.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He went on to rave about the novels of James Michener and how great they are, like “Hawaii.”

And, sue me, I hate it when men ask your name right away. Lively conversation first, ask name later. It’s the price of admission.

I make it a point to sit at the bar most of the time, especially when eating alone. It’s usually a lot more fun than reading or watching people read (please) their emails.

Earlier this week I met Homa and Babak, an Iranian couple, and had a great conversation — I had no idea Tehran has a ski hill. (Homa showed me a photo on her Iphone.) Then chatted with a young Australian girl who’s just moved here.

In Atlanta last fall, I sat in a great old dive bar and had an hour-long chat with a terrific local guy, so when it works, it works well.

Do you sit at the bar and talk to strangers?

4 thoughts on “Sitting At The Bar

  1. citifieddoug

    You might already know me well enough to guess this but no. On the rare occasion I’m at the bar, I glare at strangers.

  2. Caitlin Kelly

    Glare? You?

    I tried to glare at that guy last night, but no. Nothing deterred him. I know he was just trying to be friendly but I wasn’t up for it.

    If you drank more, you’d be friendlier. I bet.

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