A few months ago as we were prepping for this bar guide, we asked you for some of your craziest bar stories. The responses were... interesting. At least the ones that were written with any semblance of grammar and spelling. Culled from the pack of inebriated tales of woe told, ostensibly, while inebriated, is this fantastic yarn. Do enjoy.
This story takes place on a night when I had turned freshly 21, a new spring chicken ready to fly its wings into the world...or Lakewood. But in my opinion, that's basically the same thing. This story is full of a few mistakes, one princess, one fairy godmother and one totally awesome decision to be overly ambitious.
My first mistake was agreeing to meet my ex boyfriend at the bar. My second mistake was relying on asking him where to park my vehicle. Dairy Queen on Detroit Rd was the answer and a bad one at that. After one Bud Light and the taste of regret in my mouth, I went out to check on my car.
There was my 97 green machine Cavalier hooked up to the back of a tow truck labeled "It's Baker, again". If your tag line says the word "again", you're doing it right and probably doing me wrong. Batting my eyelashes and crying did not get me out of this one. I check my wallet and I have $5.
Sheer coincidence has it, not my ex or any person I remotely knew had any money. They had no money and were at a bar. They must get by with bats of eyelashes. Meanwhile, I get by with the taste of despair.
I sat down to pout by the doorman and told him my tale. He felt bad but did not have $115 to get my car out in time for work the next morning. He gave me one single dollar. He said "It's a start" and shrugged. That doorman was this princess' fairy godmother and I owe him the magic that he had inspired within me.
I ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw not my most stunning looks. I was said I was meeting my ex who, since he is my ex, was obviously not my prince charming. I knew the task at hand. I wet my frizzy hair, applied a smidge more eyeliner , bobby pin my bra straps and pull my cardigan down a few inches. Let's do this.
I walked my way to the front of the bar. Deep breath in and out and a batting of the eyelashes...
"Excuse me but I'm not from around here really. My car just got towed and I have to go home. Could you spare a dollar?"
One by one people emptied their wallets and gave me a dollar. I started around 11:45. As time ticked away I said my line a little faster, batted the eyelashes a little quicker and thanked the nice people of Lakewood. By last call, I held in my hand $117 in ones.
My ex was nice enough to drive me to the lot where my chariot awaited me. And yes, I loved every single minute of watching that clerk count 115 dollar bills at 2:30 in the morning.
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