July 24, 2005
Of all the barstools in this world
I looked across the bar. Woody was bright eyed and blow dried and beckoning me over to him with a grin.
There is a particular refrigerator far far away from my that location that night. And there is a magnet on the refrigerator that says, "Everything happens for a reason."
And there are certain nights in certain seasons that i feel i just need to be in certain places. Tonight, the-somewhere-in-the-middle-of-the-summer night hung low in Hammondsport. The edges of town are tucked in tight between the rippling hills of somewhere-in-the-middle-of-new-york-state. 54A forks out of the tucked in town along the west shore of the lake, leaving an angular corner at the edge of town where Mahoney's pub takes up it's lot in life.
It was on this specific corner on the edge of this specific town on that specific night where I occupied a barstool in this world. Out front, on the white railing sat a bachlorette and her bridesmaids, biker boys and saturday night girls. inside the man behind the microphone stand was playing an elvis song.
I got up off of my barstool and walked over to woody.
Without a word, woody grabbed my arm and pointed at the bartender, who looked at me and held up a bottle of George Dickel #9.
After a brief introduction to the aforementioned bartender and an abbreviated tour of our long history with the bottle in his hand, he proceeded to pour us drinks stiff enough to stand up without the glass. Soon woody was reciting our black bear story and bargaining for bourbon, and the glasses started pilling up from the whisky we were drinking on top of the money we weren't spending in the night that i hope wouldn't be ending. the man behind the microphone stand began singing a John Prine song. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, on that barstool, on that somewhere in the middle of the summer night, in that somewhere in the middle of a tiny tucked in new york town, i felt like i was right where i should be.
There are certain nights in certain seasons that i feel i need to be in certain places. Everyone once in a while, i end up making it there. Riding away that night up 54A, piled in the backseat with the windows down, i didn't feel bad for being where i wanted to be. I commended woody for his bargaining tactics. and I began believing in refrigerator magnets.
