Another Friday night.
Did you let your hair down?
Did you find a place of refuge and go a little bonkers?
As you left the working world, where did you go?
Did you take the long way home?
Or did you just find a safe haven/watering hole where the locals congregate?
A place where no one judges anyone else.
A place where you can go to be yourself, to act like an idiot, to act out, and to just act.
Laughing like children, drinking like sailors and feeling good about just being alive, on a Friday night in January, 2016.
Oh, yeah, most of the people who meet on a Friday night, are guys.
They have worked all week.
They are usually construction workers, electricians, roofers, mechanics.
And then, there is the lone Chicken Butt.
An aging woman, who has no connection to any of these guys.
She enters, wearing a ridiculous bear hat, and an attitude.
And just has to talk to everyone and anyone who happens to wander in.
After a few doubles, the old bag leaves.
And she smiles all the way home.
Who were those masked men?
Who really cares?
Actually, the question remains: Who was that masked woman?
Was she for real?
Or just a wild figment of my imagination?
As Pink Floyd would sing: “the lunatic is in my head.”
See you next Friday, boys, if you are up to it.