Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 180

You guys,

I knew things had taken a dark turn when I started doing drugs in secret. Cocaine was typically a social activity but I didn’t want to share my stash. Drugs cost money, ya know. 

I worked the brunch shift on Saturdays. Whoever decided bottomless mimosas were a good idea probably didn’t imagine a girl standing at the bar and pooping right on the floor. Dudes in white T-shirts who no longer belonged to fraternities took the first mimosa right to the face. As if it was manly to chug anything out of flute. They didn’t want me to leave the table without filling them up for round two with my pitcher of cheap sparkling wine mixed with orange juice. 

“Is there any champagne in here?” was asked often. 

“Can you please fuck off?” was what I wanted to say. Actually I did say that sometimes. And then I’d laugh, trying to salvage my tip. It was a lost cause. I was lucky if they were even coherent enough to pay their bill. 

Shots of Jameson were quickly presented to me at the service bar. My fellow colleagues all hated brunch. We rolled our eyes at the customers. We were better than these jokers. We raised our shot glasses to each other and drank whiskey like men, and we saved our blackouts for nighttime.

 But shots of Jamo weren’t enough. I needed something stronger to get me through.

The women’s bathroom only had one toilet with a lock on the door, so the line wrapped around the hallway from 9am-3pm. What do you suppose they were doing in there? Besides using the toilet, there were three other likelihoods: puking, passing out, or doing drugs. 

There was a coffee shop next door. We often went there for coffee at the start of our shifts, and they often came to us for a beer at the end of theirs. When there was a lull in my section I ran to the coffee shop. They also only had one stall with a lock on it, but as opposed to the bar, it was peaceful and quiet here. There was no line, no one banging on the door yelling at me to hurry up.

I rushed in and locked the door behind me. Removed my apron and peed as fast as I could so I could have time to do my drugs in peace. I took my car key and dipped it into the little bag of white powder and sniffed it up one nostril. Then I did the other side. 

I continued sniffing as I tasted the cocaine dripping into my throat. I hated the metallic taste. I looked in the mirror, checked my nose to make sure there was no residue. My heart pounded. My hands shook. 

I stared at myself. What are you doing with your life?? 

I stopped looking in the mirror and put my apron back on. I had to get back to work. 

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The Best Memoir I’ve Read So Far

Today’s story was inspired by The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer. 

He writes about a bar he used to love, and it sent me down a rabbit hole of memories about a bar I used to love.

I should be sharing a memoir deep dive podcast episode with you today. I recorded last week, and after listening to 10 minutes of it, fell into self-loathing pity and whined to Sam that it sucked. The book was too good! I was too inspired by its words! How could I possibly do it justice??

So I scrapped it. I’m going to record again soon, and I promise I’ll have more to say than just, “OMG this book was so good.”  

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Until next week,

Charlie