Stranger Things Have Happened, I Know

I sat down and slid across the bench seat, wedging myself in the corner of the booth. I kicked off my high heels and tucked my legs underneath me in such a way that I was comfortable, yet still retained some modesty in my skirt suit set. I wiggled out of my suit jacket and folded it over the back of the booth. The tall, skinny bar tender came by to take my drink and dinner order.

                “I’ll just have a Sam’s Oktoberfest and an order of sliders,” I told him, pulling my book out. The awful thing about Manchester, NH on a week night in late October was that nothing was opened past 10PM and liquor stores closed even earlier. By the time I’d arrived and checked in it was almost 8PM. I ironed my clothes for the following day’s meetings and sat on my bed. I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. I turned it off after just a few moments and picked up my book and tried to read. The silence surrounded me and my ears rang. I looked at the clock; it was 8:45PM. Plagued by a constant insomnia, I knew sleep was a long way off. I could not sit here all night. I grabbed my coat, threw my book in my purse and made my way down to the lobby.

It was the concierge that informed me of the town’s “winter hours”. I frowned. “However,” said the smartly dressed woman through her tight smile, “The bar is opened until 1AM and we serve appetizers until 10PM.”

“Perfect,” I said, thanking her. If I can get a good enough buzz on by 1:00am, I may be able to pass out. So after I’d finished my first beer and ordered a second and my empty plates had been cleared, I got up to go find the ladies room. On my way out, I glanced in the mirror. Even though it had been a long day, I didn’t look too spent. I brushed my hair and powered my face and threw on a little lip gloss to make myself feel better about sitting in a bar alone.

I was on my way back to the bar through the lobby when I first spotted them. There were three of them, huddled around the concierge desk. She was answering their questions but looked far more flustered than she did when she had answered mine.

 “I hate New England,” I heard one of them say. I tried to be cool and keep walking back to the bar. My heart was pounding as I passed behind them. I heard the concierge saying

 “The hotel bar is opened until 1AM.”

“OK,” one said. “The other vans should be here in a little while and we still have a few cases from last night’s show. Let’s go get a few drinks until everyone else gets here.”

“Oh shit,” I thought as I went back to my booth. I arranged myself as I had before and tried not to pee in my pants as Dave Grohl and his friends walked into the bar. I casually glanced up and my heart froze as we made eye contact. I smiled at him and he smiled back, nodding. I pretended to go back to my reading. I listened as they ordered drinks and charged them to their rooms. They joked and laughed. The bartender asked them for their autographs, which they all gave on cocktail napkins. A middle aged man, the only other patron in the bar, finished his drinks and collected his belongings. He also stopped and asked for some autographs before leaving the bar. That made me the only other customer left in the bar. I wanted to die! I downed the rest of my beer and signaled to the bartender.

“Another Oktoberfest?” He called over. I nodded.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get it for her,” Dave said, turning to look my way. I froze.

“Thank you so much!” I called back, trying to sound as casual as possible. The bar tender filled a glass from the tap and handed it to Dave. “Oh shit,” I thought. “He is coming over here.” He stood and made his way towards my table. I closed my book and straightened up.

“Thank you,” I said again, smiling.

“You are welcome,” He said, smiling. He handed it to me and surprised me by sliding into the booth across from me. My palms began to sweat and my mouth went dry. I took a big sip of beer.