Dear Bartender,
I understand that you are part of the night's treasure. When the lights are on and slightly dimmed, then music starts to eat away the silence of faded day, that is when you are starting to breathe in life to the restless evening. That is when the story begins as you pour drinks into my glass.
I understand that you are part of the night's treasure. When the lights are on and slightly dimmed, then music starts to eat away the silence of faded day, that is when you are starting to breathe in life to the restless evening. That is when the story begins as you pour drinks into my glass.
I can tell those eyes have witnessed series of events -- or perhaps, was once bruised when you were trying to assist a drunk man to leave the premise but then aggressively refused to do so. Aside from being able to make the greatest drink ever served, those gifted pair of hands may have been bled when you were trying to clean up pieces of broken glass on the floor that accidentally dropped by irresponsible adult in the middle of their intense argument. Night after night, those lips are trained to tell the sweetest compliments as rich and intoxicating as the flavor of alcohol, which sometimes may get you a kiss or two from beautiful girls of your dream that happen to walk in to the bar. I also know, you are a great listener. Those ears have heard the darkest secret and lies, the sweetest love story, day in and day out complaints, numbers of swears, flirts or even one night stand invitations that you said yes to, as if those are your supper before sunrise calls you to sleep.
These does not justify anything in your behalf; the perception of sins and your good deeds. You are still the free-spirit angels of the night and as human as you can be when I see you sneaking to the corner of the bar, stealing one or two sips of whiskey as you catch your breath in between serving the customers. All I wanted to say is: to me, you are not just a bartender who serves drink behind the wooden bar and slippery floor; you are the fresh air, the holiday or getaway from mundane routines -- boring lectures, assignments, faux-hope of unreturned texts and even heartbreak. Sometimes, you are the only good thing I look forward to the entire week.
By any chance, you may turn up to be the ideal husband or the guy every parents warned their daughter about -- but either way, I'd still be willing to clean up the champagne foil cut on your thumb if you let me.
Sincerely,
Your customer.
