Me and my crew from work sometimes make ventures away from the big city of Dublin out to the sleepy burbs like Powell for a relaxing lunch at a fine dining establishment named for where people purchase petrol. These excursions usually revolve around the daily food specials which range from $.25 wings to a surprisingly good sub. Coincidentally the wait staff tends to be female, and well sometimes female plus silicone (sorry Ryan, those aren't real, otherwise the nipples wouldn't point sideways when she leaves the cooler). Our misadventures tend to take a tad more than the allotted 45 minutes for lunch, and we usually are the only one's not drinking. On special days like yesterday, we can even watch fine blue collared folks take a trip out to the truck to smoke those homemade cigarettes, which are so popular among tradesmen (I pity the folks who's house will be painted that afternoon), before returning to more beer and Jaeger (nothing quite gets you ready for an afternoon like a spliff and some Jaeger--oh, yeah the beer is good to help you paint too).
What's sad is while we were there we found out that Big Tim had died. The waitress wasn't quite grief stricken, as there are three (3!) Big Tims, and she wasn't sure which of the regulars named Big Tim it was. Now I haven't died anytime in this lifetime, but I'd like to think that the loved ones in my life would have better people to contact than my favorite watering hole (I don't even have a favorite watering hole--should I have one listed in my will?). How often do you have to go to a place where it reaches that level of significance in your life? I don't even think my place of employment needs to know right away (WTF, are they gonna fire me?). Anyway, between the three Big Tims and the urgency of notifying the waitstaff of the situation (did Big Tim eat that much that the cooks would need to cook less or drink that much that a beer truck could be called off?) it was rather absurd. I never knew any of the Tims, but I do miss the guy who looked like Bernie from Weekend at Bernie's and his sidekick Smeagol (his precious). They haven't been there in a while, and I should get to working on some posters.