Life Beyond the Bar Scene: 63 Hours1

by Laurelin

I enter this week with a heavy heart. Usually I have something to look forward to, some great event that with the passing of each shift at work I can say that I’m one day closer to. I enter this week with a heavy heart because I have no one, no increased heartbeat when my cell phone lights up on the end of the bar because it might be him. There is no him. I enter this week with a heavy heart because when I look ahead I see only the same thing day after day; I see only what I feel the majority of the world sees: plain and boring monotony. My heart is heavy, and it’s crushing me.

This week is my chance to shine at work. With my boss on vacation for one week I am the next in line, so this building and everyone in it is mine to run. My walls, my liquor, my beer taps and kegs, my neon lights and my whole staff. Seven straight days of bartending to make sure nothing goes wrong, to make sure this place looks better than when it was left this past Monday. But with no days off to look forward to I can’t help but feel like I’m in a war zone. No Boston waterfront for the fourth of July, no sunshine in my face at the beach, my tan lines fade and my eyes lose their spark as I adjust to sixty-three hours indoors. Even breathing becomes boring.

I fight the sinking realization that this means for one week I am left alone with my own head, my own abilities or inabilities. I have no time to drink with friends until it’s all numb, until I can only laugh about everything that right now seems so overwhelming. I have only time to wonder if I am really upset about working so much, or if I am upset about being able to drink too little. I know it’s only one week; after this weekend my schedule is back to normal, but for some reason the days seep by slowly like spilled molasses.

To make a change one must desire change and create change. I desire change. I also desire sunshine. I desire men, and I desire sangria. Instead, this week, I get sixty-three hours. This week I get discipline, ruling others, and myself. This week I bitch slap my liver and other neglected body parts so they don’t fall into misuse. This week, it will take everything in me not to fade to dust…

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