Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Crash and burn at Estelle's
I decided to get out and grab a brew at Estelle's last night, in my least favorite neighborhood of Wicker Park.
Crowd wasn't too busy, but Estelle's being a 4am bar means it picks up at 2am. I didn't make it that far. I ordered a drink, and wandered the short and thin pub looking for a familiar face. No one was there I knew, so I grabbed a seat at the bar and just drank my cocktail.
45 minutes pass, and the people I'm watching throughout are getting drunker as time passes. Cheap beer, I guess. In walks in a couple I've known for a few years, but haven't seen since last summer.
"Hey ChicagoSane," says Charles. He used to dress well, but now he's slowly faded into the hipster-tight-jeans-and-a-hoodie garb that is already overdone in this joint. His girlfriend, Andrea, looks decent but she's put on 20lbs in the past year or so. "Surprised to see you here." They both know I'm fairly anti-scene, but I explained to them that I wanted a drink amongst people.
We talked for about twenty minutes when other friends of theirs came in, so we parted. Nothing much was said.
As the hours passed, the 2 ladies I considered talking to were getting progressively drunker. It was obvious they were bad drunks (on a Monday night, no less), so I stopped paying attention. I turned to my left and a new young lady was sitting there. I smiled, and she smiled back. I then returned to my second heavy drink.
10 minutes of ignoring her and she's talking to me. "Here alone?" she queried.
"I am. Not many choices tonight," I told her, looking at her face and realizing either she's cuter than I first noticed, or I'm more drunk. She noticed me checking her out.
"Me too. Just taking the edge off of work," she replied, giving me a quick once over that passed much too soon. She works in marketing, or advertising, or some industry that isn't doing too well. 5% pay cuts across the board, but I told her it's better than 5% firings.
We both talked, and drank our specific cocktails, hers being some sort of gin and tonic with a splash of juice, I'd gather from her breath. Nothing too exciting, but she definitely was cute. Thin, which I prefer, long brown hair, which I like more, and a great smile.
"I noticed you keep watching," she pointed out. I do, because I'm always interested in what people are wearing, what they're talking about; wondering what their lives revolve around. "People don't interest me," she finished.
It was getting late, about 1am. She paid her tab, and turned to talk to say by to me. "Want to grab a sandwich?" I asked.
"I am hungry, but no. You're not my type of guy." That hurt. I can't imagine what her type of guy is, but I do prefer getting shot down to getting a throw-away email address. It happens, sometimes in great streaks.
Honestly, I wasn't looking to go on a Mediterranean cruise with her, but some mouth-on-mouth action in my car would have been nice. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Hopefully she wasn't as attractive as I thought, and it was just the Scotch talking.
Tonight I'm heading to some new bar closer to Logan Square. Details to follow.
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