The Fire Breathing Dragon

There is no reasoning with drunk people. There especially is no reasoning with drunk people in dark, crowded lounges with music so loud that reading lips is a prerequisite for employment.

It was a particularly slow night, but I was keeping busy with the few groups in the lounge I had been assigned to. My manager decided to throw the whole lounge at me convincing me I could handle it... encouraging me to breathe and focus, as if anyone could do such a thing in a crowded lounge bumping a mixture of trance and Greek club music. I made my route back and forth on the worn wooden floor through the lounge with my sticky tray, broken nails, liquor-saturated dupe pad, and coveted pens clipped to my tank top. I was ignoring the fact that my dogs were not only barking at me, but growling. I turned my watch to face the underside of my arm. I didn't want to know the time, because I knew the hands would be pointing to numbers that would greatly disappoint.

I made my way to one group that had been keeping me on my toes all night....and I don't mean sous sous.... I was ordered to bring martini after martini to the point where I felt I could even taste the vodka. I knew they would hit a brick wall, and unfortunately, I WAS that brick wall. They asked for the check, and I gladly brought it for them. Now, watching vodka heads try and sort out a check in the dark in a noisy lounge is definitely an interesting site. Usually, they throw a TON of cash in the card holder, or they just say F* it and throw a credit card at you. Then you have to babysit them to make sure they remember how to sign their name praying they leave a tip. But occasionally, you come across the especially drunk ones who cannot even process the idea of paying AT ALL for the mess they have put themselves in....

It was then that the fire breathing dragon emerged from her lair to attack the Broadway-aspiring cocktail waitress who had no shield to protect herself except for her sticky tray. The dragon was forced to pay for her friend's bill when her date had skipped out on paying for her drinks... At a 100 dollars, I can understand why the dragon may have been slightly annoyed at her friend, or even the lame date for the situation... but somehow, the blame was all put on ME! It was because I made her close her tab at the bar to get me her card to pay this bill. But it was my job to get this bill paid. Her fire of cursing words, physical pushing and yelling at me because SHE was from MANHATTAN really made no sense in the context of the situation. I sat there, surrounded by vodka heads, Greek trance pulsating through my head, and my eyes started to blur from the tears that had welled up from inside of me. I took a brief escape inside my head and wondered, how long will I have to deal with this? How did I get here? How can people be such monsters? When can I be in a show again? Will this moment give me the strength I need to give my next shot? And as the dragon continued to spew fire, I grabbed the credit card and pushed my way through the crowd, tray in hand, blinking the tears away, and paid the bill.

The dragon had won. My tray wasn't enough to protect me from her fiery words that burned deep into my heart. My tears were trying hard to put out the flames, but even they weren't enough. I am not sure why the stupidity of a drunk dragon monster affected me. But more than the burn from her fire, was the deep desire to escape and do what I really want to do, and the ever-present question of IF I will get to do it at all. Will the fair maiden be doomed to serve dragon monsters alcoholic fuel to their fires forever???

The answer to that is NO. I know this is only temporary and there is a light at the end of the tunnel, even if that tunnel has tons of twists and turns where the light is seemingly far away if there at all. So in the meantime, I will protect myself by carrying a larger tray and perhaps a pair of earplugs...to not only drown out the stupidity of vodka heads, but the horribly loud music as well. -M