Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Gerard
A few months ago, I dedicated an entry to one of our bar regulars, Glen: the type of guy who will tell you that the fresh bar rag you are cleaning the bar with "smells," yell at you because he thinks the size of the bar's heater is too big ("It's big enough to heat a goddamn stadium. Jesus, what were you thinking?!) in spite of the fact that you had no say whatsoever in its selection, and refuse to pay for his ice-cold beer cause it's "warm as hell." Yet Gerard trumps Glenn in nearly all arenas when it comes to the art of trying a girl's patience.
Gerard is a trim guy in his early sixties with foot-long eyelashes and a shoulder-length grey mullet. He may or may not have Tourette's syndrome, because he repeatedly chants loudly and clearly, "SHUGH!" as he leisurely enjoys eleven Coronas and nine Jager shots each night. No one really knows what "SHUGH!" means, or where it came from. When asked about it, Gerard merely drops his head and shakes it as a condescending little smile dances across his elfin face, as if he cannot justify such an ignorant question with an answer. Sometimes people are irriated by it, sometimes they think it's funny. Nicole told me that last week Gerard inspired a group of young Puerto Rican thugs to jovially chant "SHUGH!" as they toasted each new round of drinks. I finally asked Gerard last week if he had Tourette's syndrome. He said, "No! Why would you ask me a question like that?!"
And I said, "Well Gerard, it's because you make this weird sound over and over and over every night when you come into the bar. Sometimes you do it to get my attention, sometimes you do it when you win a game of pool, but mostly it's just a private proclaimation that seems to be beyond your control."
He said, "No, Kate. You've got it all wrong. Sometimes, when you're trapped against a wall, and you want to fight back, you just say, "SHUGH!!" and then you feel better. It's bold. It's defiant. It's a way to stand up for yourself."
I said, "Actually, no one knows what it means. It's not like you only shout it on occasion in the heat of a bar fight. You shout it fifty or sixty times throughout the course of an evening as you calmly sip your beer alone at the bar. No one's bothering you. No one is imposing on your personal space or being invasive. It's incessant, it's jarring, and it's really starting to bother me. Please try to cut back."
Without missing a beat, he looked me right in the eye and shouted: "SHUGH! SHUGH! SHUGH!" and then stormed out of the bar. But not before leaving me one of his infamous poems on a bar napkin that read:
"Katay-
The beauty of you spoke first,
but your heart was there,
and it whispered
so much more."
-G.
Gerard is a trim guy in his early sixties with foot-long eyelashes and a shoulder-length grey mullet. He may or may not have Tourette's syndrome, because he repeatedly chants loudly and clearly, "SHUGH!" as he leisurely enjoys eleven Coronas and nine Jager shots each night. No one really knows what "SHUGH!" means, or where it came from. When asked about it, Gerard merely drops his head and shakes it as a condescending little smile dances across his elfin face, as if he cannot justify such an ignorant question with an answer. Sometimes people are irriated by it, sometimes they think it's funny. Nicole told me that last week Gerard inspired a group of young Puerto Rican thugs to jovially chant "SHUGH!" as they toasted each new round of drinks. I finally asked Gerard last week if he had Tourette's syndrome. He said, "No! Why would you ask me a question like that?!"
And I said, "Well Gerard, it's because you make this weird sound over and over and over every night when you come into the bar. Sometimes you do it to get my attention, sometimes you do it when you win a game of pool, but mostly it's just a private proclaimation that seems to be beyond your control."
He said, "No, Kate. You've got it all wrong. Sometimes, when you're trapped against a wall, and you want to fight back, you just say, "SHUGH!!" and then you feel better. It's bold. It's defiant. It's a way to stand up for yourself."
I said, "Actually, no one knows what it means. It's not like you only shout it on occasion in the heat of a bar fight. You shout it fifty or sixty times throughout the course of an evening as you calmly sip your beer alone at the bar. No one's bothering you. No one is imposing on your personal space or being invasive. It's incessant, it's jarring, and it's really starting to bother me. Please try to cut back."
Without missing a beat, he looked me right in the eye and shouted: "SHUGH! SHUGH! SHUGH!" and then stormed out of the bar. But not before leaving me one of his infamous poems on a bar napkin that read:
"Katay-
The beauty of you spoke first,
but your heart was there,
and it whispered
so much more."
-G.
# posted by Katie @ 3:14 PM 
