I Just Want to Pay My Tab!

So, I recently awoke from an unplanned two-hour nap (which I’ve been taking and enjoying during these past couple of weeks while on vacation) and am still reeling from one weird-ass dream. I’m going to recount as much as I can remember but will present it in an almost free association writing style. You know, like how psychics write when channeling a spirit. (Or is that vice versa?)

I don’t remember all the details but most of the events took place at a multilevel lounge/bar. (I know, too predictable, right?) The decor was all dark woods, low lights, and nooks and crannies for seating. It was like the Doug Fir on steroids. (Portlanders should get that reference. And by Portlanders, I mean hipsters.)

On one scene, a friend with whom I was standing at the bar must’ve said something incredibly funny that I laughed so hard, and I ended up on the floor. A couple of other patrons had to help me back up while I was still laughing my ass off. I headed to another part of the lounge, and several people had asked me if I was alright. I said yes, and inquired with them as to why they’d asked. Apparently, I was walking a big red welt on my forehead. It appears that in the process of laughing at whatever funnier-than-hell joke my friend had said, I jerked forward and hit my head on the bar, which made me fall back and onto the floor. Somehow, I missed that detail the first time around.

One significant incident involved me trying to pay my tab from a previous visit. Somehow, I walked out one night without settling my tab. I only had two pitchers of the Double Bock plus a couple of pints of another type of beer, so I don’t exactly understand how I could possibly forget to settle up. *wink* Anyway, the third person I spoke to seemed like a manager and she told me that they can’t find my tab so she’ll just do the ‘bar minimum fee’ which is equivalent to two pitchers of beer. I told her that was fine. She handed me the bill and I saw that the total was $70.00! I perused the itemized check and saw that I was charged for 5 of one thing and another 2 of another, which certainly was not ‘equivalent to two pitchers of beer.’ I questioned her about this and she said that I can certainly take things up with a manager higher than her at another time and that maybe I will have my bill adjusted. I told her that I would prefer to handle things now so that I can put this to rest. She said that wasn’t possible, and I was miffed, shouting, “I’m not going to pay for seven pitchers worth of beer for consuming only two!” and several patrons around me grunted or bobbed their heads in agreement.

And I think that’s when I woke up, all sore and groggy. There were many other things that happened during the dream that nag at the outer rims of my reverie, but I can’t put the details together. I’m just gonna have to chalk those up to memories that will play on in my subconscious.


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January 2010
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