Be That Guy

You stare across the table at your guest, eyes narrowed. Your gaze is persistent, but not urgent. Because you have nowhere to be but where you are. They shift uncomfortably in their chair, rethinking previous assumptions about how they were just coming over to pick up a check for that kid’s baseball fundraiser and that it shouldn’t take too long or be too weird.

“So…just make it out to—”

Later, you indicate with a lazy wave of one hand. Without breaking your steely eye contact, you reach for the bottle of whiskey off to one side. The palm of your hand strikes the bottle unexpectedly soon, nearly sending it tumbling to the floor. But you recover, adjusting your grip, eyes still straight ahead.

“Um. Just Bradford County Little League would be fine…”

Ignoring this inconsequential talk of finance, you finally, mercifully, break your stare to give proper attention to the pour. You watch the satisfying glug glug of the honey brown liquid as it fills your glass before ignoring your counterpart’s weak insistences of “ok, okay, wow” and “but it’s like 10:30 in the morning” as you loudly clank the neck of the bottle onto the rim of their empty glass and distribute just a little more than you intended.

“So like I said, we really appreciate your contribution…”

People today just don’t know how to sit and think, free of distractions, you muse.

“…to the, uh…”

Away from the TikToks and just here, together, solving the problems of the day.

“…the…uniform fund. For the season, ya know?”

Yet here we sit amid this delicate dance we play, sipping on our spirits. Emboldened by their fermented nectar yet also calmed by rough notes of wort and wood.

Deliberately, you lift the metal tongs and use them to quietly lower a few chilled stones into each drink, saying something pretentious about the inferiority of ice cubes.

As your guest continues to implore you to just go get your damn checkbook already, you thoughtfully stroke the side of your slate coaster and think, perhaps out loud: This horse’s ass doesn’t even know how nice of a wooden box all this stuff came in.

“What did you say?”

Shit.

“Get me $100 right now or your name isn’t going on the t-shirts.”

Yeah, sorry, one second. Hey, do you want a travel mug for that drink for the walk home?

“Oh heck yes, that sounds perfect. Hey, where’d you get this rad box over here??”