So, the Hummingbird is open again and that means that Thursday’s Night Big Ass Beer night is back in session. That is, you get the king sized version of select beers for $3 – It is loved by all and sundry.
I don’t know how we got started, some kind of hold over from when it was Trio, but after a hard night at the job, when you get off at 11pm/midnight, you just need a place to unwind and get your mind off of killing the people you work with. The management at Hummingbird had the great idea of selling bigger beers and for that, I know at least 4 guys who are very grateful.
For me, I like people watching, although I hate sitting in a smoky bar doing so. I deal. I bring my little notepad and just write down thoughts or snippets of conversation (no attributions, but yes, I was eavesdropping). People who know me come up to say hello, then see that I’m writing and feel as if they are intruding, but it would be completely ridiculous for me to go out to a bar and then get mad if I got interrupted in my writing. If I wanted uninterrupted writing, I would hide out in my own home office, not at a bar.
So I get my Guinness (the closest beer to coffee that I’ve found) and set my phone down to wait for the text that signals that my friends will be showing up and I jot. I write about the music and how I only know some songs because of the game Rock Band. I write about a memory: A pen pal I had in the Marines had a gun explode in his hand, shrapnel hit his face and lodged near his eye. He was fine, but being the stereotypical Marine psycho, he was much too nonchalant about having a gun explode in his face. I wonder where he is now. I write about women writers: Flannery O’Conner would have been 82 in March if she’d lived and Atlanta Magazine said they thought she’d be living in Milledgeville still. That made me think about women writers who either had to pretend to be men to get published or who lived lives as recluses, their writing not discovered until 2 generations later when women writers were no longer hidden like some crazy old aunt in the basement. But it also made me think about how we must miss that, when writing was just us and the page and the anonymity of pretending to be someone else to get published empowered us more than we knew. Well, more than they knew.
Then I came up with a television show idea, but that’s for another time.
I was well into my second beer when my friends show up. They are Red Stripe drinkers for the first part of the night. After that, some switch to jack and cokes. One guy doesn’t drink at all. Now, how much drinking happens directly correlates to what is happening once the bar closes. Are we all just going home or are we heading back to my house for Unusually Late Lost Viewing Party? ULLVP is the name I give to those of us who are too addicted to the television show Lost to wait until Friday to catch up on it. There is a danger in waiting until Friday and that is that someone will spoil it and tell you about it before you get a chance to watch it. I’ve had Colin Cowherd from ESPN Sports Radio spoil Lost for me before. It’s that much a part of our pop culture climate that even sports radio is talking about it. So, those of us who can’t see it at it’s normal time (even if we didn’t go to the bar after work) have banded together to watch it later that night – so we’re caught up, more confused than ever, and won’t snatch our radios out of the dash because some dude (and it’s not just Cowherd) can’t keep his mouth shut for one more day.
But that’s the beauty of BAB Night. It’s friends getting together, having a few beers, telling stories (sometimes long ass stories – you know who you are, Mitchell), laughing a lot, making new friends, and just enjoying what Macon has to offer.