At the Trophy

The Trophy Wins!
Originally uploaded by steakbellie.

So here I am at the Trophy, three blocks from my house. It's the crappiest of the 3 bars in town, but is clean and well frequented. The DJ sits awkwardly in the corner jammed in behind a folding table that holds his cd player and several orange milkcrates of cds. I ask him to play some Alice in Chains. He says 'sure' but I know he wont play it. I listen to his first few songs and understand why he's at the Trophy.

Next to the DJ is the remains of a free buffet. Scraps of fried something litter the paper plates left on table. It was probably something like Onion Rings and French Fries.

I'm completely invisible to everyone here, yet they magically part when I walk back to my spot against the wall. Invisible to eveyone but the bartender that is. I tip a full dollar per Guniness which makes me a pretty big tipper here amongst the groups of construction workers and college kids. Mr Fucking Bigshot in his shirt and tie doesnt ever have to wait for a beer anymore.

The four Italian looking guys drinking Bud Light bottles next to me are bragging to each other how Irish they are. I close my eyes and listen to their Philly accents. They're all dressed in sweatshirts, jeans and untied workboots. Later on, the oldest insincerely complains that he'd love to still be in the Union with them, but had to take the Foreman job because of his 4 kids.

With my eyes closed I can see my sons coming in here for a beer in eight years or so. It'll be eleven years before the oldest is legal, but I doubt that will stop them. Did it stop me?

I watch some college kid rock out when they the DJ plays a Primus song. I was in college when the song came out, and I'm guessing he was around 8 or so. He doesnt know shit.

MixMaster follows it up with a Neil Diamond song. I look over at the Foreman who gets quiet, remembering back aways...I guess it's my turn not to know shit.