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Blogs by Paul Cuenco
Predicament: Closing Time 3/19/2012 7:01:17 PM
It has been crowded here at Greater Trumps this Fridays and Saturdays that the bar maids had stacks of glasses four to a trolley, and more. I could not even order another glass of beer lest I waited for quite some time. When I raised my glass or call the barmaids’ attention, they would hush me up. They could do this to me since I know them well and because I am a regular. I seldom go to other bars. Here, I open my tablet computer and jab at it like there is no tomorrow; and here I reflect about the different things in life in a day that affected me.
There were more and more non-regulars going to this bar. Before I was the only one or few of the only ones smoking a cigar. But now, you would see groups of joiners since the introduction of prohibition. When I say prohibition, it was not the drinking prohibition but the smoking prohibition. You see, Portland in particular and Oregon in general had instituted a smoking prohibition. This law was applied to smoking in general such as cigarettes and cigars. But since this bar had been a cigar smoking bar, they had an exemption for cigar smokers. The law grandfathered them that Trumps allow cigar smokers to do their regular thing. As for the cigarette smokers, they have to be a least ten feet away from any opening in the bar.
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So you see cigar smokers are alright smoking inside the bar. As for the cigarette smokers they congregate underneath that one big umbrella ten feet away outside on the sidewalk. (The umbrella is smallish before, about 5 times smaller, that there is constantly a crowd underneath the umbrella.) The umbrella can now accommodate chairs and tables plus a crowd of people. They huff and puff; and at times, they will take seats underneath it and bring their drinks. But on occasions when the wind blows and the rain pours, those brave souls tough it out.
Of course, there are complainers but they can’t do anything for it is the law. But there are complainers not associated with the bar, too. They complain about the smokers. They say that the smokers are smoking very close to the bar, which is less than ten feet away. Sometimes, the same complainers complain about loud music. Once or twice when there was the Halloween or New Years Eve Parties, these complainers approached the bar to complain. Of course, the bar abided with their complain or the bar would hear it from the inspector. The inspector would note it (from the same complainers) and would tax the bar with a levy. Sometimes, though, the inspector understands.
PDX Mike, San Francisco Mike, Mission Mike, Mike Lee and Stacy, Russ and Cody, Whit and the whole gang would be there. There will also be Sam and Dave. By the time when the bar almost closes, the bar maids would gather the tables and chairs, and stack it against the window-door. And when PDX Mike, Sam and Dave, and I are the only customer left of that whole crowd, the bar maid will call it closing time. There are no discussions about politics and economics allowed; no more discussions about police brutality or gun control; and certainly no more discussions about saints and everything religious. It’s closing time and it’s time to go home.
