by Robin Miller
There is a bar on Wilkens Avenue in Southwest Baltimore that has
one customer and one bartender in it on a Wednesday afternoon. The two men
are sipping beer and discussing the decline of the Orioles when a young
woman enters.
She stands uncertainly for a moment, perhaps allowing her eyes to
adjust to the bar's dim lighting, then wanders over to where the single
patron sits and plops herself down on a stool next to him.
“Would you buy me a beer?” she asks. “Draft is fine.”
The man says, “Sure,” turns to the bartender and says, “Give her a
beer on me. What the hell.”
The beer, National Bohemian in a can–there is no draft
available–costs $1. The man pays. The woman opens the can herself and
drinks almost half of it at once. She fixes her eyes on the man and asks,
“Would you like a date?”
“Hey,” the bartender says. “You can't do that in here. I don't
chase you girls off when you're out front, but you can't come in here and
hustle the customers.”
what the hell…how you think we all got here…drink up & lighten up…!!
Well, you can’t really blame the bartender, for not
wanting women soliciting bar patrons inside the bar, because if
The bar loses it’s liquor license? It’s out of business.
I picked up a skeezer on Hanover Street back in 1990 and gave her a napkin & 3 crumpled up dollars for the best BJ ever!
Hey Harry, that horse thing of yours is not doing you much good if you’re stuck picking up $3 skanks off the street LOL