Friday night I was working at the bar when I noticed a customer hitting on Kristi, the other bartender. The thing that stuck out
about this guy, other than the fact that he was in the bar but not drinking, was he had on a backpack. It was the kind you took to school or to summer camp, with both his arms looped through the straps. The pack was full. Maybe he had rope and a gag with
chloroform; maybe it was overnight clothes, like he would keep hitting on the girls until one let him stay the night. Or maybe he brought his own beer and was selling in the backroom. It could have been a severed head for all I knew. If you are out at a bar, leave your backpack at home, unless you are going to a rave then by all means pack it full of water bottles for the E.
Kristi realized he wasn't getting a drink and there would be no tip so she moved on. I watched the guy pick up a napkin and write something on it and then walk out.
"I would love to continue this conversation at a later time. Call me
917- xxx-xxxx Doug."