Anatomy of a bar fight – or why I love my local bar

A few weekends ago, Brian and I were at our favorite local watering hole helping a friend celebrate her birthday when a bar brawl broke out. Okay, maybe “brawl” is a bit of a strong word for what was ultimately the classic battle – two guys fighting over a girl, but a punch did get thrown, a shirt was ripped, and a candle holder was broken. Although it only lasted about 20 seconds, they were exciting seconds nonetheless. For those 20 seconds, all other sound was suspended as the rest of us absorbed just what was happening. After it was all said and done and the extremely drunk instigator was shown the door, then all conversation turned towards what had happened and who had done what during the chaos. Repeatedly, people said “let’s just stop talking about this” only to raise some other viewpoint or retell the showdown mere minutes later. Brian, being ever the risk manager, did not get involved but did rush over to move chairs out of the way to prevent further injury and/or collateral furniture damage. Only his lovable insurance-auditor-Swiss-heritage self would be so methodical in his assistance, but God love ‘im, someone has to think of the bar stools. He did say to me that he pondered for a moment what he might have done if the drunken idiot had been hassling ME. His first thought was that I could pretty much take care of myself and woe to the drunk who thought to try giving me a hard time; his second thought was this guy was way bigger than him and his only hope if push truly came to shove was to just go bezerker and hope for the best. Fortunately for everyone, that was a non issue and the Swiss in him prevailed.

A few other things stood out for me in those crucial seconds. First, a couple of the regulars, larger guys, ran over and restored order by restraining the two brawlers. These regulars kept their cool and their heads and simply stopped the two others from going at it any further. Their presence was a comfort and I regarded them both with renewed esteem. The bartender that night is a young woman who at first glance you might assume was hired for her looks. She’s young, blond, and probably one of the friendliest people you’d ever like to meet.  She is relatively new to the bar-tending scene and also the owner’s daughter. But she really showed her chops when said drunkard thought he wasn’t really quite ready to leave. She looked him in the face, told him to get on out the door, and did not take no for an answer. She did not raise her voice or get excited but somehow he sensed the gravity in her voice and left without further trouble. In that moment she was the drunk-whisperer, which is a gift no bar should be without.

I think the other reason we were all so transfixed by what happened is that these kinds of things simply don’t happen at this particular watering hole. The entire vibe of this place is relaxed and for people enjoying each others company as much as anything. Sure conversations are often animated with the assistance of liquid encouragement, but in the same way you might have intense conversation with friends around the dinner table, which is what Brian and I love about this place. In fact, we generally drink modestly and Brian gets as excited by their homemade ice cream as he does by their Hendricks martinis. It struck me that evening that people who go too far and who cannot hold their liquor are bad for business. No one really wants to spend time with someone who can’t respect the boundaries of common decency or even common sense. I suppose every bar is a little different and there are those places that cater to the Carnival Cruise Line philosophy of the harder the party the better, but just because a place has “bar” in its name doesn’t mean its a place for drinking with wild abandon.

This particular bar is where Brian and I go to see our friends – people we have gotten to know far better than any other business I have ever frequented. We’ve celebrated my 40th birthday there, Brian’s 40th birthday there, our 10th wedding anniversary, and my last day at Cobalt. I have happy hours there with my girlfriends. We have taken any number of family and friends there when they come to visit in the hopes they will see some of the same magic that we do. Sometimes we go for no reason at all. But, it’s not all one way either. We have helped celebrate their birthdays, and watched them perform in shows, even had them over to our home for dinner. My former suburban self never would have even considered being so connected to people that I met “in a bar.” Happily, the Universe felt that was a misconception my life needed correcting. The people here are family.

Last weekend, we were chatting with one of the bartenders who did not happen to be working the night of the big brouhaha. He mentioned that fellow had been trouble before and it was probably only a matter of time before he had to be shown the door. I asked if that guy was “banned for life” and he said he was in his book and he did not have any patience for that kind of behavior in this place. He thought the owner might feel differently as he believed in giving people second chances, but he wasn’t so sure in this case. That comment said so much to me about both their characters and in that moment I loved them both.

If you need me, I’ll be enjoying good drinks, fine food, and laughing with my friends at the bar.

Seattle Rock N Roll Half-Marathon recap (in half the words)

Common courtesy is that after your friends, family, and one very kind-hearted stranger donate their hard-earned money to a fabulous charity, on behalf of your hare-brained and ongoing compulsion to do endurance events for reasons unknown, that you tie up all the loose ends and tell them how the event actually went down.   For all they know at this point, maybe I didn’t even show up…  In case anyone is getting nervous at this point, I did show up and successfully put in my 13.1 miles.  And just in case you missed me talking about it ad naseum, here is a picture of my walking buddy Sandy and me with our finisher medals.

Last year I wrote the world’s longest recap and recounted every moment of those life-changing 26.2 miles. This year I was thinking maybe I would go a different way and in half the words (or less) share a few select moments that stood out.

My walking buddy, Sandy, and I planned to walk together but also both agreed that the event is ultimately a personal experience. So, in that light, if one of us had to stop off for a pit stop the other one would keep going and hopefully we would catch up. Around mile 5, Sandy cut off to take advantage of reasonably short port-a-potty lines (Side note, these events have notoriously long lines – two years before at another half-marathon I watched hundreds of runners go by me while I waited impatiently in line…). As agreed, I kept going. I did slow down to a more casual pace, thinking she would easily catch up to me, but eventually I realized that wasn’t going to happen, so I picked back up the pace and figured I was on my own. Then nature knocked on my door, and I ducked off the trail to a park restroom about a mile later. When I got back to the course, Sandy was about 20 feet ahead of me, as if we had planned it that way. We stayed together the rest of the way along the course and over the finish line.  This may not seem like much, but when you are sharing an event with over 25,000 other people, reconnecting like that is far from a given.

The other moment that stands out for me was around Mile 12. We bumped into Coach Siri and it is always very motivational to see the coaches.  For whatever reason, it always puts a little extra pep in my step. After the requisite Sandy photo op, we headed to the viaduct where the race splits and the half marathon goes left towards the finish line and the full marathon turns right for another 12 miles. I was getting tired and my hips were sore, but I experienced a brief moment of pure joy that I was able to go left and did not have to continue on for another 12 miles (in case you think my math is wrong, the courses do not match each other exactly). In fact, I may have enjoyed that moment more than actually crossing the finish line. As monumental as my marathon experience was last year, I was really VERY happy not to be doing it again this year.

I got to the finish line and after chatting with my other TNT teammates, Brian took me home where I practically dove head first into an ice bath (the only time this season that Brian got the pleasure of recreating “Lyda on the rocks”).  I was never in imminent danger of being booted off the course like I had been last year and enjoyed Sandy’s company as well as seeing the bands and cheerleaders. This being my third time at this event, the course was familiar, and I felt a quiet sense of satisfaction in accomplishing my training goal. I was mildly disappointed to finish in just over 4 hours when I had hoped to come in just under that, but as my new non-stranger friend, Steve Bralla, reminded me – whatever time I finished in I would have wished it would have been faster, or my form better, or… So the best we can do is to find a way to be comfortable with not ever really being fully satisfied in our performance, which ironically is the very thing that drives our success in the first place.

Finally, if I haven’t expressed it adequately already, THANK YOU to everyone who has so generously supported me in this effort. I literally could not do this without your help and the fact that so many of you have stepped up more than once makes me even that much more and I am humbled by your donations on my behalf.

I guess I will recount one other memory. As many of you know, I walked this event in memory of my friend Gil, who lost his battle with Leukemia a couple of years ago. Gil was, well, a weird dude and life was rarely dull or normal if you spent any amount of time with him. He was not a runner and probably would have found a half-marathon a rather mundane event. Later that day, Brian and I were driving back from the store and we encountered a group of people in bright multi-colored body suits that covered their heads and even down to their fingers, riding old fashioned bicycles (with bells and baskets on the front) across the intersection. This was nowhere near the race course and was hours after the event finished, and it had to be one of the most random things I had seen all day (or any other day for that matter). It was frankly a rather Fellini-esque moment. I could not help but think of Gil and smile.

Image courtesy of prayitno

The Agony of the Teeth

The Agony of the Teeth

Image from http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

For those of you who are sick of hearing me talk about my stupid root canal, this post is not for you. In fact, I am almost sick of hearing myself talk about it. But I can’t stop thinking about the experience and therefore I simply can’t move to the next topic until I deal with this one.

A number of years ago I had a tooth that changed color and was causing me some pain. That dentist said there did not appear to be anything wrong, but if it didn’t go away in 3-5 days, to come back. The pain went away, so I thought nothing of it. Fast forward a few years. That same tooth started acting up again and I used the same logic of I’ll wait 5 days and see if it goes away. Plus I had an appointment for a cleaning coming up and figured I would just ask about it then.  After 5 days it still hurt, and after 7 days, then 10 (yes, I know I’m an idiot, but let’s just call it optimism). By Day 10 I realize this is not getting better, but it was Friday night so I figured I would call them on Monday to deal with it. That Friday wound up being a very, VERY long night.  Prior to this night, I could take some Tylenol and go to bed and maybe wake up in the middle of the night when it wore off, but take more Tylenol and go back to sleep. I took 2 Tylenol. Nothing. Took 2 Advil an hour later. Nothing. I could not sleep because I was so distracted by the rhythmic throbbing of my tooth. So, I went to the source of all knowledge – the internet (seriously, how did we live before Google??).  There are a LOT of interesting home remedies for toothaches out there – clove oil, peppermint oil, tea bags, vanilla extract, whiskey (whee!), hold a towel  with vinegar to the outside of your mouth (??), gargle salt water, and soak a small cotton pad in fresh onion juice and apply it to the aching tooth (I don’t think so).  In my desperation, I tried painting my teeth with vanilla extract, which did nothing for the pain, but I did have nice breath.  I chewed on a tea bag to no avail, and lost my vanilla fresh breath. I also learned that many of my fellow sufferers experienced more pain at night and that you have to sleep sitting up (which was later confirmed by the dentist). Countless people posted their remedies in the wee hours of the night and I have to say it was some comfort to know I was not alone in my late night suffering. I was also absolutely heart broken by the number of people who suffered because they had no dental insurance and could not afford to seek help anywhere else.

On Saturday morning I called the dentist and he predicted root canal and agreed to fit me in on Tuesday morning before my flight to Hawaii.  He also called in a prescription for antibiotics and Vicodin. The Vicodin certainly did kill the pain, but not in any kind of “fun” way. It’s hard for me to imagine that people get hooked on this stuff. Basically, it put me in a coma and I was either dead asleep or extremely groggy. This is a fine state for avoiding the pain of a hideous toothache, but not much good for anything else.

The root canal procedure was uneventful and painless. I would like to say the rest of my trip to Hawaii was as painless, but the “discomfort” my dentist mentioned would occur, was as painful, if not more, than pre root canal and I was chewing Advil like candy the entire trip. I finally started feeling like a normal human again on Sunday – the day we left to come home…

How have you coped with your own dark journeys in the night with pain?