There was somebody playing at one of the two pool tables by the bathrooms, front door, and door to the back room. He was hustling for drinks like he did everytime he was there. It was kind of a right of passage, if you played lost and got him some drinks you would gain a certain level of respect.
This story is not about him, but about someone that actually lived in the bar and called it his home. He slept in the back room and was a janitor as a form of paying his rent. Always wearing a red hat, drinking vodka out of a plastic glass, Didn’t always smile but his would light up a room. I called him uncle Donnie. This is basically background about him. He was a fixture after a certain point, I can’t remember exactly when. He was until the day he died. Cheerful enough, easy going, but also in pain and it showed even if he didn’t want it to.
I only saw him sing once, it was to an afroman song when he was doing something behind the bar. Before that he told me he doesn’t sing.
I will just put a bunch of stories in this one, because they are to short to do individually.
There was a night where he was passed out on the couch he called his bed. Me and the guy I booked shows with turned his couch around so it faced the wall, we gave it some space though. We left. He got up to take a piss and walked into the wall. When me and the other booker walked in I saw uncle Donnie looking at us, and yelling the word fucker, fucker one and fucker two. It was followed by a smile. As of that day we were both called fucker.
There was another night when some people were being loud and doing some stupid shit. I walk up to the bar and cop a lean next to Donnie. Without missing a beat he said Welcome to our nightly services. How can I help you my son?”. Had me laughing and caught me off guard.
I never knew he was a veteran, but then again I do not think he really told anyone.
Here is the part that still gets me. I was gone for a while, it is after I stepped away. He got an infection, gave away his antibiotics, and died. That is what I have been told.Honestly he is part of why I am writing all this shit.
There will be plenty of stories he is part of or was around during.