Going To Bars And Not Drinking Alcohol: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Earlier this week, my oldest friend Josh -- whom I've known since I was 6 years old (25 years; wow) -- took me out for a belated birthday dinner at this Italian restaurant in Northridge not far from my house. We decided to sit at the bar so we could watch ESPN while we ate, and it was in this situation that I remembered the problem with me and bars.

See, here's the thing, which I've said many times on this blog: I rarely drink. I don't like beer, vodka, wine, hard liquor in general; I like girly drinks -- Kaluha and cream, mudslides, and so forth. So at the bar, I don't order booze. I usually order a Pepsi or a diet Coke.

And it's at that point that I might as well put on the "I'm Irrelevant. Don't Bother Acknowledging That I Exist" sign to the bartender.

I am the worst possible person a bartender wants to see at his or her bar. I won't order 5-6 beers in a 60-minute period. I won't rack up a huge tab. I won't be enamored with a female bartender chatting me up the entire time pretending to think I'm interesting, and then have that same female bartender find an excuse to jump up and down at some point during the night so I can see her boobs jiggle, enticing me to give her a big tip. Hell, I don't even earn "chatting up" status.

See, this is how the scenario goes:

Bartender (often female, often very cute, often smiling): What can I get you?

Me: Diet Coke.

Smile fades. Diet Coke given. No words for the rest of the night. I have to practically throw the empty glass at her head for a free refill, and when I get it, it's handed to me with disdain and disgust.

And honestly, I can't blame these people. I am a cancer when it comes to bars. You won't make money off of me. Why should I be spoken to? Why should I be treated as an equal? Why should these hard-working bartenders waste their time giving me my free refills?

When it comes to bars, they don't want me there. They should put up a "No Nev Allowed" sign up there. I'd understand.

Having said that, I have friends who drink -- like all of us do -- and when we go out, they should have the freedom to sit at the bar if they want. Why should I stand in their way? And if they get chatted up by the female bartender and they can find a way to use my lack of alcoholic drinking toward their goal of having sex with her, more power to them.

Female Bartender: So your friend doesn't drink?

Nev's Friend: Eh, no.

Female Bartender: Wow, what a loser.

Nev's Friend: Yeah, seriously.

Female Bartender: Cool people drink.

Nev's Friend: Yeah, like me.

Female Bartender: Yeah.

Nev's Friend: Yeah.

(pause)

Nev's Friend: Wanna f**k?

Female Bartender: Sure!!

If a friend of mine can pull that off, knock yourself out.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

In the world of drugs and celebrities:

Lindsay Lohan failed another drug test.

Paris Hilton was caught with cocaine and yet will walk away with a slap on the wrist.

And one of my favorite boxers to watch over the last 10 years, Ricky Hatton, was caught on video on a cocaine binge.

At the risk of sounding preachy and high-minded, WTF is the deal with celebrities and drugs? I mean honestly? I mean, it's not news that these drugs are not only illegal, but they're only going to hurt and destroy everything and everyone that matters to you (and that's not even going into the damage you're doing to yourself). How many times do we have to see people -- celebrities and non-celebrities -- throw their lives away over drugs before would-be druggies get the message?

I just don't get it. I really don't.