For quite some time, the night before Thanksgiving has been one of the biggest drinking nights of the year. Everyone has off the next day, kids are home from college, people are in town visiting, friends come back together. I was bored and alone and decided to see what Memphis had in store. I walked down towards where my office is to a new bar called Slider Inn. As I walked, I peeked in at he different bars along the way, South of Beale, Green Beetle, Local, Huey’s – I was pretty disappointed in how empty most of them were. I went out to be around people. Fortunately, Slider Inn had a decent crowd. It’s a cool space, it’s big. It’s probably even better in the warmer weather (they have outdoor space for people and doggos). I sat at the bar, ordered an IPA and mix and match sliders. I people watched for about fifteen minutes when the couple next to me started talking (or maybe I initiated, can’t remember). They lived out in Collierville, but owned a place downtown. They were in for the long weekend (without the kids). Willie, the husband, was a short fellow decked out in LSU gear. His wife was quiet and personable, but seemed like she might have been under his thumb a bit.
As I nursed my beer, the two of them had two or three drinks each. We chatted about a number of things. Willie did most of the talking. He was a strange guy with a huge chip on his shoulder and more than a few insecurities (something I didn’t quite piece together until the end of the night). At one point I had asked him about the Blues Hall of Fame (told him I worked there and wanted his honest opinion). He said he liked it, really clean, really nice. But, he felt like the museum staff was watching him as though he was going to steal something. He talked quite a bit about this, even got up to show how he was walking around the museum and how they were keeping an eye on him. At one point, I think he said he doesn’t need to steal anything, he could just buy the whole building. It was the type of talk I expect from child. As the two of them were settling up, they asked me join them at the next bar. The bartender had left them their check, but forgot to leave a pen. Willie tried to make a joke saying he’d use a straw, but it doesn’t have any ink. It’s not good for anything. The bartender replied, “it’s good for sipping.” This upset Willie, he said “what?” she said, “it’s good for sipping.” He said “I know, but I was saying we don’t have a pen and this isn’t good for anything.” When she repeated the word sipping, he said what again, and this time she spelled it out s-i-p-p-i-n-g. At this point Willie was pretty frustrated and asked her if she thought he was dumb. He said “I know what sipping is, I know how to fucking spell it. I don’t need a god damn college degree to spell sipping.” The bartender walked away and for the next few minutes Willie kept telling his wife that the bartender must think he’s stupid. The wife just needed him to tell her how much to pay.
We left and went to a place called Longshots. One of Willie’s friends was with us. We walked in and went straight to the bar. Willie started to order a round of drinks. The bartender asked if he wanted to start a tab, and he said sure. She said she’d have to hold his card. Willie didn’t like that idea – he seemed to think it was an affront – like his money wasn’t any good there. He got aggravated with her wanted to know why he had to leave his card. As he raised his voice, she pushed his card back to him and she said he doesn’t have to drink there. This, of course, set him off. He said he’ll buy the whole fucking building. The manager came over to settle things down. Willie was having none of it. He said the bartender treated him poorly, and when the manager asked if he called the bartender a bitch, Willie denied it (I don’t think he did call her that), but then Willie called the manager a dick. The bouncers came over and the three of them left. I stuck around – apologized to the bartender, said I just met them an hour ago. She gave me a free drink. I felt bad for her.
The rest of the night I thought about Willie. The kind of life he must have had to make him walk around so angry and eager to show that he’s not poor and not dumb. I thought about his wife. I wondered how can she put up with him, let alone, go along with it. I thought about male aggression – women don’t walk around saying I’ll just buy this fucking building. I thought about his friend, a guy who seemed normal, cool, interesting, why does he hang out with someone like Willie. I thought about how many other Willies are out there. I thought about the angry world of men and the damage we do.
I went home. I thought about my ex, about how if we were together we’d have been a much more fun couple to hang out with – or we’d have curled up on the sofa and just enjoyed some quiet time together. I thought about how I hoped she got to go home for Thanksgiving – be around people she loved. I worked on my Thanksgiving 2018 post. I went to bed.