Saturday, September 27, 2025

Crescent City Barmaid

It was nearing our time of parting...in July of '23.

Earlier in the day, I'd met a fisherman unloadiing the offal from his catch. He said the fillets, rock fish, went to the restaurant across the sward (Seaquake Brewing).

The wait time was 40 minutes...maybe longer. Invited to sit at the bar, we settled in.

It's true, I'm easily distracted. I avoid busy places, bars, restaurants, public toilets. (There's nothing quite as embarrassing as standing at a urinal and being tapped on the shoulder and someone saying "Hey, buddy" and turning and spraying pee all over....esp when it gets on the guy next door or the tapper.)

She was an auburn redhead, und sehr zaftig.



I watched, fascinated, as she moved, twice as fast as her co-workers, weaving among them like a dancer, mixing drinks, pulling beers, taking our order. (She said we could eat at the bar and wouldn't have to wait.)

Finally, I had to ask, "Who are you?!?!" She was a master one-wheeler 




working on a degree in psychology and had come from bar-tending in Lake Tahoe...a much loftier tier. I entreated for an interview but she demurred.

A few days later I was sitting outside a masseuse's shop, waiting. It wasn't until she went "floating" by -- down the middle of the street -- that I realized it was she!

I'm still puzzling over why this came back this morning.
















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