The Bartender

The Bartender in the the saloon polishes the glass over and over again. She wears an old western bartending outfit- vest over a long white shirt with arm bands, a ribboned bow, and a bowler hat.

The regulars fall silent as a Cowboy enters. Across the room, a Cowgirl stands up. They agreed to meet at this time for the showdown.

Western duel music kicks on. The Bartender observes the players’ faces. Angry. She focuses in on their eyes. Tired. Close up of their fingers twitching by their guns. One holds a cheap pistol, the other an expensive revolver. This won’t be a fair fight.

She notes a ring on one twitching finger, and the tan line of a ring on the other. The patrons appear frightened, but with a deep sadness and disappointment. A tumbleweed rolls across the bar floor.

No, there wouldn’t be a tumbleweed in a bar. The Bartender blinks. It’s a serving tray that has fallen out of a waiters hand, and somehow spins for what feels like minutes. It’s her job to retrieve the tray- the waiter is brand new to this town. And she’s been around these parts for some time.

She’s responsible for the cattle drive. Getting her herd through the stampede of a busy night at the saloon. Leading the crowd of hungry and thirsty cows to their destination- a table where they will become be profitable to The Rabbit Hole.

The crowd watches the tray land as the clock strikes high noon. “Draw!” The Cowboy and Cowgirl point their weapons at each other. No one fires. This isn’t a showdown. It’s a Mexican standoff. Everyone will ultimately lose.

A patron at the end of the bar calls to her. Why are they not watching the stalemate? She blinks again. The Cowboy and Cowgirl now each stand next to a sidekick. The sidekicks take the guns from their heroes and point at one another. The patron down the bar tries to get her attention again, but she continues to absentmindedly wipe the same glass.

The drawn, pointed guns become pens. The sidekicks’ frontier outfits transform into suits of city slickers. Lawyers, the Bartender realizes. The Cowboy and Cowgirl can’t look one another in the eye. Another call from the patron. She slides a glass of whiskey down the bar to him.

“What the hell?!”

Whiskey splashes the patron at the end of the bar. He gets up, livid, and finds the bathroom to clean his precious tie. The Bartender see’s that the glass landed perfectly in front of his seat, just barely tipping over the bar. She’s skilled, but you don’t slide a glass at a high end bar.

That’s what the Rabbit Hole is- a two dollar sign (on yelp) cuisine that specializes in cocktails. It’s not a saloon. Although her outfit as a “mixologist” isn’t far off from that of a Western Bartender.

The Cowboy and Cowgirl are really just another couple having a date night. They sit at the same table, both wearing their wedding rings. But the Bartender can’t help but notice they feel as far from each other as they appeared in their standoff. There’s still little eye contact, fidgeting, and a tiredness in the eyes.

Her boss comes out, clearly having heard about the bar slide and rolling tray she didn’t pick up until she snapped out of it. This might be the last straw. Their final showdown in which the head boss shoots the lowly Bartender’s gun right out of her hand. But it’s not a gun, it’s her livelihood and sanity. And without it, she's screwed.

A couple years earlier...

Colorado Springs, Colorado. Voted #4 best city to find love. Yet also voted #12 for the city with the highest divorce rate.

The Bartender was unaware of these statistics when she moved here. She simply needed a change and the Old Colorado neighborhood was satisfactory. People refer to it as “the Wild West” because it once held saloons, brothels, and gaming parlors.

It was apparently an essential spot for gold processing during the Pikes Peak Gold rush.

“Gold Fever. Those who have it can't let it go, those who don't have it covet it. There's something about it that just gets to people's heads, something beyond its simple monetary value. They will almost inevitably become obsessed over it to the point of near lunacy. This typically manifests as single-minded greed and jealousy.”

She never wants to get gold fever. Obsessive about a person or a place. It’s part of the reason she moves every two-three years. And at 31, she moved here.

Her apartment sits above the antique shop, which is between a candy shop and a charming boutique. She gets her coffee from a sidewalk cafe filled with flowers, and passes a family-owned jewelry store that surprisingly stays afloat. She feels like she’s in Stars Hollow.

That’s not why she came here, though. She refuses to romanticize a place. It was chosen at random. She wants to explore as much of the country as she can while she’s young. Figure out her dream or just make ends meet and enjoy whatever the town has to offer. Explore until the exploring becomes mundane.

She rides her bike to The Rabbit Hole. It’s her second week at the job, her third week in Colorado Springs. She enjoys the solitary activity of riding a bike. Always her mode of transportation wherever she lands. The only thing that comes with her to each place. She’s in control in the open air. Riding in her rugged manner.

Down the steps she goes- her favorite part of her current establishment. The descent to a hidden place. On The Rabbit Hole’s website: “Journey down the subway steps and experience a new kind of nightlife. Eclectic cuisine, exotic cocktails, haunting decor — It’s no wonder The Rabbit Hole has been nicknamed the Wonderland of the Springs.”

She showed the owner her Alice in Wonderland tattoo when she was interviewing- thinking him to be a fan, as well. However, he looked confused by this seemingly random segue and asked her to keep it covered. Obviously, he would have hired someone to make the website. So she refrains from asking about the other part written:

“Tales of spirits and unexplainable occurrences still echo through the underground — but it’s not just ghosts haunting the halls of “the Hole.” It’s the proud history that resonates loudest of all.”

The Bartender can see through bullshit. She knew right away this part of the site was a marketing tool. Play up the fact that the place used to be the city morgue. But since being here two weeks she’s dying (no pun intended) to talk to someone about it. Because on day seven she started sensing those echos.

a couple years and one week earlier...

She was in the employee bathroom of her new workplace. Desperately wiping the sweat from her under-ams. Typically, she took the long way to whatever bar she was working at. In her blue jeans worn boots, and T-shirt of her current employer.

But this damn uniform didn’t give her the freedom to sweat. She had the urge to laugh when her boas told her they were known as “mixologists.” Luckily, her stoicism allows her to hide her emotions. It makes her a top bartender- not rolling her eyes at annoying drunk people, nor smiling in an overtop way that makes customers feel stifled. 

It was her first weekend night shift. So many couples with gold fever. This was a classic date night spot. She spotted one couple whom she recognized. The older married couple who owned the gaudy bed and breakfast. She’s taken back to her first night here and tries to shake the memory by ignoring them. But as she makes a drink she hears the couple softly arguing. So she looks up, intrigued. However, the married couple seems as happy as can be, holding hands across the table.

She focuses in on their hands and has a flash of the woman arguing with big hand gestures. Yet, it’s not happening here. It's happening in a truck. Odd because the woman usually drives her small white car. The wife is mad at her husband for coming to pick her up when she said she would pick him up. She gets into a tizzy about him patronizing her. He makes a few comments that she’s being dramatic. A typical dumb argument between a couple that get’s resolved in an hour.

Condensation from the shaker drops onto the bar. She is back to the present and stares at the couple. What she originally saw as happiness, and cutesy hand holding she now see’s as tension and forceful loving gestures. The motto of their bed and breakfast is “the romance of the past with the comforts of today.” Maybe they’re holding onto their romance of the past in order to stay comfortable. Or maybe she just needs sleep and is creating scenarios in her head.

Last night when she couldn’t sleep, she looked up how gold is processed.

“The gold is separated from the cyanide solution and smelted to remove some of its impurities. The molten gold, called crude bullion, is then cast into molds. The gold is further refined into pure material by electrolytic refining , chlorination, or acid leaching processes.”

It reminds her of love. You separate from your make-up, remove your flaws in order to compromise and appear shiny. Liquify in order to mold yourself to the ideal partner. And as you go on you become a solid bar with one another. Perfect yourself. Your partner may help kill the parasites in your mind (chlorination), sanitize your life. Remove harmful elements.

But she is all too aware that chlorine can lead to irritation- it stings the eyes. And a leech is something that can suck your essence.

Unlike other commodities, once gold is mined, it stays in the world. Love stays with you, even when you bury it or lose it. It’s a long-term investment. This couple invested in both each other and a business. A recipe for disaster. Yet they continue to hold hands as she finishes her shift.

When she leaves the bar and saddles onto her bike, she takes a detour to the garage where the patrons park. Sure enough there is a truck just like the one she imagined. And no little white car.

…