While standing at the bar of one of the many bars I frequent, emanating from somewhere behind me, I overhear a female voice taking part in one half of a phone conversation.
“Ugh. I’m at some bar.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t want to be here, its all, like, dark. And full of weirdos.”
“Ugh. No. I have no idea when we’re leaving.”
“Oh Em Gee, it’s the worst, like, I don’t even know why they wanted to come here.”
“I know! We never go to cool places that I wanna go to.”
Being one of said weirdos in the, like, dark bar, I look over my shoulder to try and steal a glimpse of the dissatisfied orator of this asymmetrical diatribe.
Much to my surprise, she couldn’t have been more than ten years old. I was shocked. Fucking ten man! Why is a ten year old at a bar?! Ten year olds shouldn’t be doing bars. Should they?
She was sitting with her family in a booth and it appeared that they had come to the aforementioned bar for a meal. I deduced this by the way her and her family were eating meals at a bar.
Her family completely ignored her overt dissatisfaction, I assume due to a mix of absolute apathy and being completely entrenched in whatever kind of conversation families that have family outings at bars have.
Raising an eyebrow and pondering the social ramifications of the scene, I looked down to my right to see what I assumed was her little brother standing at/under the bar. This young lad was jabbering nonsense while swinging a plush shark around like it was an extension of his wang.
“Hmm,” I thought to myself, “if I were doing that I’d be politely asked to leave.”
After some ponderance, and some bourbon, the conclusion I draw from the scene is:
This girl is gonna spend a vast majority of her barlife being dissatisfied, complaining to her friends and wanting to go somewhere else. Her younger brother is most likely going to spend at least a handful of nights under the bar, talking gibberish while using an inanimate object to comically extend the length of his wang.
In a great many ways these kids are both just ahead of the curve.
As I finish the remains of my drink and leave the bar I chuckle to myself; “Bar Dad is gonna have a hard time explaining the glow-in-the-dark, vibrating cock ring vending machine in the men’s toilet to Shark Boy…”