In my insane youth I thought it to be a given to head to the local watering hole for happy hour after a long, ardeous day. Through time, marriages, children and other obligations I sort of gave all that up to a large extend. I still enjoy a few drinks occassionally but have found recently that the whole environment turns me off. Whereas I used to delight in engaging my bar neighbor into debates, I know sit with my Creative Loafing - sipping a beer, watching CNN, munching on some steak bites or otherwise ignoring folks around me.

I was a regular at a popular Irish pub and everyone, including the owner, knew me by name. They still do, mind you, but the visits have been sporadic to say the least. I get annoyed at loud patrons, crowded tables, golf on the TV when I want CNN.... in short, I have turned into a middle-aged bar fly. It's quite disturbing!

The scene used to be a means of meeting new people and socializing and I did it quite well. Up until a few years ago I had a large circle of aquaintences. This has shrunk considerably as one by one they all dropped out of view. I see them ocassionally but when I do, it's never the hearty "HEY! How have you been?" with the exuberant hug and obligatory peck on the cheek. It's just a half-hearted attempt at feigning friendship when clearly it always was restricted to sharing a few drinks, a few laughs and nothing more.

Unless I've had a few too many and want to engage you into a political debate, don't even try messing with me. I'm content just sitting there with my face buried in the local blotter or news of the weird. Although, there is plenty weird stuff going on around me at all times.

Take the older gentleman that everyone knows to be a chatter box, known to drink to oblivion and always dishing out helpful advice on anything from your personal lovelife to how the country should be run. The other day I made my brief visit to the pub and he was already there. Sufficiently soused and engaged in a heated debate with a scary biker type. I tried to ignore the whole thing but it was getting difficult as the decibles attained heights no doubt heard in every corner of the place. What happens? The gent gets excited, tries to turn on wobbly legs, steadies himself on a barstool (or so he thought) and promptly takes a nose dive to the floor. Did anyone help him up? Negative. Everyone rolled their eyes in an "man, what a loser" comment and continued to ignore him. I felt bad for him. I also felt a little put off and wondered, "Geez, do all of us older folks look like this when we had too many?" I have to tell you, my evening was ruined and I quickly made for the door.

I notice a lot of older men and women in said watering holes. Some chat, some sit, some stare, some look forlorn and lost other look like they just want to drink their sorrows into the bottoms of hell. When did we become such a community of sad sacks? I don't like to party anymore but still enjoy a few drinks and witty banter with complete strangers. But the whole scene largely leaves me cold now. When did this happen? And, more importantly, what does it mean??


It really was my camera and not my sight... :)