Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010—Bar 347
Jet Rock Bar & Grill
Usually I write the opening for this right before I go to the bar. Well, I’m in Peoria, Illinois to spend Christmas with my parents and family so everything’s going to be just a little different for the next few days. Basically, I’ll be going to bars in the day, so I can do family stuff and see friends in the evening. Yesterday I had to fly out of LaGuardia Airport at 10am, which meant I had to be there around 8am and hope there was a bar open so I could sit there for an hour and have three drinks and then get on the plane and collapse. I’ve worked nights since 1985, so I keep Elvis hours, meaning I’m usually up till about 4 or 5am. So I didn’t get much sleep and dragged my sorry ass to the Jet Rock Bar & Grill and I guess what I’m getting to is today’s bar crawl is going to be a bit of a dud. I was the only one there and I was drinking triple vodka and orange juices since I hate to fly and always get schnockered before getting on the plane. After being thrown in the Boone County Jail in Cincinnati a few years ago for drunk and disorderly conduct (it’s a long story for those of you that have never heard it, one maybe I’ll tell later), I’ve learned to keep my big mouth shut and just stumble on to the plane. So that’s what I do. So here we go, I’ll try and do a better one tomorrow. Hey, I’m allowed a clinker now and again, right?
Oh and speaking of clinkers, I was so fucking tired and out of it, I forgot to bring my cell phone with me. And my parents don’t have internet access, so I can only check my email once a day when I’m out here at my brother’s putting this thing together, so those of you trying to get hold of me (you know who you are) you can call me at my parents house. No cell phone, no internet...I’m partying like it’s 1988 over here! Oooh, heaven is a place on earth...
I called for a car service to the airport and here we go. It stinks so bad in here and it's a weird smell. It's hard to describe, but it's not unlike Styrofoam that's been marinated in cat vomit for a fortnight or so. Oh and it's seven in the fucking morning. I don't like morning and I'm on the verge of throwing up. It's the most wonderful time of the year...my ass!
Welcome to LaGuardia...wasn't that Guns and Roses second single? Which leads me to wonder what the fuck ever happened to Izzy Stradlin. And it's too motherfucking early to be thinking about Izzy Stradlin. Where's the goddamn bar?
The Jet Rock Bar & Grill. Let's get this over with, I'm crabby.
Okay, this isn't off to a good start. The bartender refuses to have her picture taken and she tells me they can't serve booze till 8am. It's ten till eight, so I have a diet Coke and wait out the ten minutes. Did I mention it sucks in here? I hate morning. And it's even worse when you're sober.
Those booze bottles are taunting and laughing at me.
Here's a long shot of the bar. It's empty and it's morning. Not the best recipe for a bar crawl. I feel like I'm letting you all down! The shame, the shame!
Okay, this is kind of cool and one of my favorite Bob Dylan albums of all time. Right up there with "Blonde on Blonde."
Hey Bartender, it's 8am over here! Time to start boozing it up.
Alright, here we go! A triple vodka and orange juice. Three of these will get me in the right mood to fly. Cheers!
And here's drink number two, which is actually the equivalent of six drinks. Prepare for takeoff!
Condiments!
Attention catheter users: You're in an airport, get to a hospital!
Old catheters? You know when it comes to catheters, you really shouldn't try to skimp. Go nuts and use a new one, you only live once! And since you're on the catheter, you're time may be coming to a close, so it's time to fly first class.
I think there's even enough TV's in here for Gene! Too bad they keep playing catheter commercials on them.
Shit, I just looked at the clock and it was after nine, I gotta run and catch the plane.
Okay, through the magic of the internet you're spared me stumbling onto the plane and passing out and here we are in Chicago and the plane's on time.
The Cat hat is a clue that I'm near to Peoria.
Then suddenly...
P-E-O-R-I-A...Peoria! (Sung to the tune of Gloria.) Goodnight, everybody...err...good day...aahh, whatever.
Review
Uhh...I don’t know, this place is kind of like The Hard Rock Cafe’s retarded younger brother. Okay, I gotta go, I’m hoping today’s bar crawl will be a little better. I’d hate to lose my whole audience at the end of this thing!
Terminal C, LaGuardia Airport