Career Counseling in Beer Land!

What to write about this time?! Should I write about the time I took a pod of jelly fish to the face while ascending during a scuba dive in the Bahamas? Maybe another time.

Should I write about the time I ran into Slayer in a tiny bar and drank with them until close (except for the big, bald, salad eating guitarist who goes to bed early.) Nah. I'll write about that time later.

This time, I think I'll write about the time the State of Indiana suggested that I acquire a letter of reference. And then I spent the next six hours getting solicited for pictures of my breasts from my former coworker.

BUT ALLISON, WE'D RATHER HEAR ABOUT THE SLAYER STORY!

Well, I'd rather tell you about the Slayer, story so act right!

Next time I'll tell that other one.

Alright,alright,alright here we go.

I was working as a waitress in a hotel bar. It was a new hotel! A fancy hotel!

The outfits that we had to wear were really weird though. It was an “upscale sports bar” theme so we had black pants, long black aprons and then these strange, super unflattering slate gray athletic v-neck shirts. It was an odd combo. (This is what happens when you try to please too many people at once I think.)

But this was a hotel bar so the people were going to come no matter what weird outfits the staff were wearing and this was winter time, so that worked in our favor as well.

Because this was the new fancy hotel that just opened, it was where all the famous people would stay when they came into town and from time to time, our paths crossed.

One day, there I was, working away in my curious outfit when a guy came in and sat in my section. He had a mullet and was wearing a leather jacket. He looked mostly clean.

We didn't get too far into the waitress-single dude dance when he informed me that he was a roadie of some sort for Slayer and they were staying at the hotel.

Oh that's cool, I told him. I'd never been a fan of heavy metal music, or any kind of loud noises in general, but sure I knew who they were, who didn't?

Can I getcha somethin to drank? Please he said, and the dance continued.

After he ate he looked up at me from the booth.

The band is looking for a place to go after the show tonight, you know anywhere?

Well, it just so happened that a good friend of mine was Bartender in a little punk/metal bar right down the street from the hotel.

I told the roadie about the little bar and then cleared his plates.

Thanks he said and handed me two tickets to that nights show. I'll put your name on the backstage list too, he said before he left.

A little while later, a giant bald man came in, sat at the bar and ordered a salad with no dressing from Sheena the bartender. Al-riiiight she skeptically sang.

I finished up my shift and called Bartender. Hey! I got two tickets to the Slayer show tonight, wanna go with? I told him about the roadie and the bar recommendation and the backstage list and the whole shebang!

Fuck yes he said.

After some ample pre-gaming, we went to the show. And for not being a metal fan, it was really great! There was fire and theatrics. (And that big guy from Sheenas' section at the bar earlier who had the salad with no dressing was playing the guitar right up front!) It was really great!

Bartender was happy to buy all the beers since I had the tickets and I was pretty lit after it was all said and done.

How do we get to the backstage? We walked around in circles and never found it, so we decided to leave. We stopped by his place for a quick smoke and then went to the bar.

I remember it was wintertime and it was cold and it musta been snowing abunch because when we got to the bar, which is normally pretty busy, it was empty. There were only a few figures inside.

So this bar. This bar is the kind of bar where they play the music so loud, it is impossible to have a conversation. Typically, they keep the lights real low and have some kind of weird color accent lighting, but sensory wise speaking, it intentionally provides challenges.

We walk inside and immediately I see the roadie sitting at the bar. We wave at each other and I walk over.

THANKS FOR THE TICKETS! I screamed at him. WHAT A SHOW!

Bartender goes to get us a round.

Then the roadie pointed to the other side of the bar and there were the guys from the band! (Minus the large, bald, salad eating guitarist who apparently goes to bed early.) And they were literally, like the only people in the place.

I remember spending most of the night doing Jager shots and scream-talking at Jeff while he politely smiled and nodded.

I REALLY LIKED THE FIRE CANNONS! AND THE PART OF THE SHOW WHERE THE CROSSES SPIN AROUND IN CIRCLES!

And Bartender was out of his mind with happiness hanging with a guy named Dave, I think. Go figure.

It occurred to me later that Bartender could have thought that I just bought tickets to the show and made up the rest to try to get him to go on a date. But then Slayer actually beat us to the bar after the show! AHAHA! Maybe we were supposed to find the backstage beforehand? I never get these things right! Anyways, what a night!

RIP JH!