i hesitate, then cross the street. open the door to the bar. the smoke is thicker than fog. the place is packed. there is a live band playing highway to hell, their amps turned up to eleven. frankly, they're not doing a bad job of it, not bad at all. i make my way through the thick of the crowd to the back of the bar, near the band. plenty of seats there, it's too loud to order a thing.

the walls are painted with pink fluorescent paint. a guy with a GIT-R-DONE t-shirt stands with his back to me. the band finishes the song and unplugs their instruments. good timing i say to the bartender. she asks me what i want, a bud, i tell her.

the jukebox comes on, redneck woman (not a high-class whore) is playing. the bartenders are singing along, they know all the songs by heart.

on the television over the bar there is a 1982 david carradine movie on, he is a new york detective tracking down quetzicotl, a flying prehistoric monster (god) that has made a nest for it's brood in the top of the chrysler building. i can't look at carridine without thinking of kwai chang caine, and wonder at the choice of that name, cain, condemned to roam the earth, looking for peace, deathless.

save a horse, ride a cowboy comes on the jukebox and the bartenders are gyrating their hips as they sing along. a roundhead next to me orders two jaegermeister bombers, and i order one. he is trying to chat up the bartender, kitty she tells him her name is, counting out his change, a five and five ones, and she walks away, singing the chorus.

there is a waitress there, one, and she is cleaning up the debris of the night, slowly, she moves in slow time... she never speeds her pace, but never slows it either. she punctuates her efforts with long sips of her ginger ale. her hair is carefully done, ironed. her jeans are too tight now, and when she looks across the bar into her reflection in the mirror with her lips pursed on the straw in her plastic cup, her eyes have the sadness of the ages in them.

it's not what i am used to, but the karma is strong here, of a certain kind, and i tap a few kiloliters. i figure they won't miss it, and if they do, they might be grateful.