Answer #40 - Had Breakfast in a Bar

I'm heading to Player's Pub in half an hour to sing for half an hour at 11:00 in the morning.

I'm doing it as part of a benefit for Haiti, so it's a good thing, though it is a bar and it is 11:00 on a Sunday morning. 

It's been years since I was in a bar on a Sunday morning.  Since college.

It was cheap, back then - some kind of ridiculous all-you-can-eat deal at The Sidelines, and it all made sense, somehow.  You could still smoke indoors, so the combined aromas of bacon, smoke, beer, and other bodily fluids could not possibly have been conducive to dining...

And even then, Billy Joel's Piano Man was squirming around my head as I sat there, because, as is always the case, some people weren't there for breakfast at 11:00, and like I said, I have to wipe the drama off of me with handiwipes most of the time.  It's a kind of magnetic goo to me, drama - I have a hard time staying away from it, and then a harder time ridding myself of it... so Piano Man would squirm, and I'd write sad stories about lonely people on bar stools while I ate my scrambled eggs and worried about finals.  Or money.  Or love.

Nothing's changed terribly, now that I read over this paragraph.  I worry about all the same types of things, to varying degrees, and still make up stories about people on bar stools.

And now, in a weirdly circuitous way, I'm heading to a bar on a Sunday morning.  I'll probably even eat some scrambled eggs. 

And if anyone asks me, tomorrow, 'How was your weekend?'

With a clear conscience, I can say, 'Great!  Had breakfast in a bar.  Just like the old days.  Of course, unlike the old days, this time, it was for a good cause.  And not just because I was hung over.'

Might even skip the bloody mary.  Maybe.