AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

5/18/16

Dear (_____)

Dear Union Pig and Chicken,

Please do better.  Or continue to do the same, I suppose.  Either way, it's fairly clear you're smoke house food and bar is not for my kind.  My friend sitting across from me cussed at the television because the Pirates game was on and a bull shit call happened, and the manager came out of the Pirate's dugout and was clearly mouthing "no, no, no, that is bull shit" on live television several times over, and my friends exact words were "ah, that's bull shit" on the loud side and we went back to our conversation about the idiosyncrasies of baseballs rules.  Your wait staffer went out of their way to admonish him with widened and upset eyes that cursing was not for the bar area or U, P, & C, unless we were in the back room playing adventure bingo.  The staffer kept on as though about to ask us to leave.

We got a "to go" order and were only waiting for a half pound of brisket to arrive in a paper bag while we shared a cider from a can.  The hell, UPC?  It was 9:30.  You close at Ten.  Everyone upstairs was talking loudly.  We were sitting at a table four feet away from the bar because that's where your waiter sat us after I let him know we just wanted a drink while we waited for my"to go."
Was it our beards?  Was it our clothes?  The single swear word?  Among all adult clientele, at a bar, while everyone else was drinking?  Why the glaring?  Why the threatening posture?  Why did your staffer feel like they had to say "swearing is not for out here, is that clear" before taking our drink order of a single can of beer and a pair of waters and repeating the question when we asked if we can order and move on?

No smoking? fine.  Everyone understands that.  No screaming and shouting profanity enough to paint the walls?  Sure, no one wants to hear that while they're eating or trying to relax.  Threatening denial of service for a remark about a game on the televisions at a bar of all places that is damn near empty I visited to have a drink and grab a little over priced grub in exchange for a tip and live sports for twenty minutes?  I'm confused.

Please do better.  Or continue to do the same, I suppose.  Either way, it's fairly clear there's a kind of person you do not want as a customer in East Liberty and my friend and I are they.  In retrospect, it's not that disappointing.  I feel a little goofy now, not realizing and reading from the interior decor, the folks populating a few of the bar stools and a booth, and our initial interaction, that your place is not the place for us.

Thanks anyway?

You Do You
at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)