Yes, this conversation took place in the piney board loo of the Driftwood Inn, saved from oblivion by Don, who brought the bar back to its fisherman's sports bar glory. He's down at the end of the bar, ready to pitch in and wash glasses if necessary. As for my acquaintance, he had hair and moustache white as snow and a build of a professional cage wrestler. I recommended a dose of Five Hour Energy. He confessed. He had knocked back two.
Danielle, the manager of one of the bars and a social director drew me into a circle of friends and we had neon blue shots together. Looks as if I won't be finishing my Molson. She gave me a hug and told me to look for her at the wrap up breakfast bar. She tells that to all the boys, surely.
I drove myself and it's looking like a great call. This has made for a popular stop and everyone has had to wait several cycles for a bus ride back to town. Right now, a woman is walking around with a sign held high on a long stick, THE BUS IS HERE! I think one more stop, Northern Trails, is out further on the State Road to Howard City. I can't believe the distance driven to connect this pub crawl.
As soon as I arrived at the bar, I cozied in between two couples, one married and one of recent acquaintance. On the left, a petite woman in a black turtleneck and a faded pair of jeans chatted nonplussed as a man in glasses and a hunting jacket rubbed her back. On the right, a man turned to me and complimented me on my marijuana cologne and his wife searched my top shirt pocket for a dime bag. Failing to find that, she plucked my cell phone out of my top pocket and called it an atomizer.
I think it's time to pay Stephanie the bartender and make my way to the highway, not the breakfast bar in Newaygo. The woman in the black turtleneck has left for the bus, leaving her suitor at the rail of a classic Michigan White Pine bar.
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