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It was almost one am and I was still at the office. Just a friendly face at the Wedge is all I'd like...one foamy sweet pint of Guinness before everyone closes up shop to ease down the tensions one notch and have one moment of sweet bullshitting with another human being, at the bartender's mercy of course. Went by the Wedge, and Patrick had chairs up, and all the neon lights were off. I rattled the door just in case and started walking away.

He must've seen me through the window because he came and unlocked the door and poked his head out, "We haven't had a customer for like two hours...sorry man, the register's all closed up and totalled out." He looked at me as if there might be something else I needed, like a copy of The Stranger or something.

"Thanks, man," I said, and made for the car. Perhaps pies and pints. I can't believe that my favorite bartender Emily stopped working there days after I had just been talking to her. I went in a few nights ago and some lady who was filling in told me she'd just stopped working there. It wasn't a week and a half ago that she offered me the same kind of company I was looking for now. I drank my beer and she talked to me while she poured. You know, small talk, sometimes not even a whole paragraph about the same thing. I remember I was so grateful.

"Thanks, Emily, I really appreciate the generous company," I said.

"Yeah. I was gonna say, when I see you come in, I'm glad, because I know I'm not going to have to talk about sports." I laughed. I just found out it was March Madness...so that's why there's been basketball on every TV in the world lately.

Whatever. Pies and pints was closed. I think they close at midnight. Emily's gone now anyway. I knew there was another place right by there. The Atlantic Crossing...another of Seattle's many "how I wish I was an Irish bar" bars. Go into a strange pub? Where I don't know a single soul? Did I even really want a beer?

Sure. Sure I did.

Walking into a new bar I suss everyone out in five seconds. Who's going home with who and who's nearly incapacitated and who's on top of their shit. Table of seven drunken girls rocking some kinda red shot and singing along to Van Morrison.

I go order a beer and he looks at the clock for a long time before he finally decides to serve me (he serves some lady a Maker's like 15 minutes later, the shit). They make me wait though, while they make seven of some red shot for the seven drunken girls. The most forward one comes over to get the drinks and says hi drunkenly and collects the sticky recepticles. She goes back to the table and starts Moondancing. I walked by her and she turns her back to me and sways, whether turning her back on me or inviting me to dance with her, who knows. I walked past her and just sort of stood where I could see the pool table and the whole bar.

I drank my beer. It's what I was there for after all. I walked back to the bar, but then stopped for a second at the table, the girls were starting to pack it up. "I don't know about the rest of you," I said, "but please tell me that one's not driving, right?" I pointed to Miss Moondance.

"No, we all live two blocks from here, we're walking."

"Good." I said, set my beer on the counter and walked towards the bathroom.

On the way back I saw there was a bag in the girl's bathroom sure to belong to one of the drunken girls. I walked out holding it aloft and saw the look of recognition on one of her faces. She had like really twisty Kyra Sedgewick kinda hair. "Thank you," she said, and loitered on her thank you. "I live just a few blocks away from here."

"That's cool," I said, "so even if you got all the way home you still..."

"That would have been bad," she interrupted, "so...so thank you. That was really really nice."

"Have a good night." I said.

I wasn't looking for that kind of company.