Drunk Barb
My friend and I needed someplace to eat dinner. We'd each slept till around noon, then watched TV till about 4:30 or so, and were in the mood for a meal. But it was Thanksgiving, and nothing was open. After buying tickets for a movie, we drove around in search of some fast food joint or hole in the wall where we could get dinner, and the only place open near the theater was Numero Uno pizza. We sat at the tiny bar and watched the game while we ate.
I sat to the left of my friend, but two stools to his right there was a loud girl on a cell phone. She was eating a slice of pizza and nursing what was pretty obviously not her first glass of wine that evening as she blared/honked into the phone. She hung up, and despite my best efforts to put out the normal don't-talk-to-me vibe people radiate on elevators and in other situations, the girl turned to my friend and me and introduced herself.
"My name's Barb," she said.
She asked us our names and what we did, and after lying about most of it, my friend got a phone call, during which Drunk Barb scooted over to cut his pizza while he talked on the phone. She hadn't stopped talking the whole time. She just wouldn't shut up. She had sideburns, too, and not the kind of faint whisps of hair that are commonplace on most women, but some serious chops. It was almost fascinating.
We eventually paid and left, leaving Drunk Barb behind. I drive past that Numero Uno every day on my way to work. I could say I wonder what happened to Drunk Barb, but I don't.
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