3 A.M. Stragglers

Balls of Fire recipe
1 1/2 oz Midori® melon liqueur
1 1/2 oz Stone's® ginger wine
6 soda or sparkling mineral water

Add 2 main ingredients and 2/3 ice chunks - stir (or shake in a flask) - fill highball to top with fizzy waters and then gradually pour it down the inside of your neck.

On Friday nights the bar closes at 3am. Dick and I do last call at 2:30am in order to get everyone out by 3am, however, there are always those stragglers who take their sweet time to finish their damn beers and chit chat away as if I didn't want to go home! Recently we opened up the backroom in the bar which has a pool table, video games, and a few couches to relax on. Although this adds an element of fun to the 100 year old bar atmosphere it does not mean that you are welcomed to hang out after closing time!

It's 2:30am, SHOTS ONLY PEOPLE! SHOTS ONLY! "But can I please just get one more drink please?" Who the fuck are you and are you deaf? I just said shots only. Boy do I hate those people who beg for another drink. Does it look like I want to watch you babysit another Jack and Coke for the next 20 minutes until I kick you out whether you're finished with it or not? I don't think so. Now chug or get out. But just as I turn down my customers' requests, Mr. Authoritative Chad (the owner) comes along and gives me the "ok" to let them continue drinking. Whatever happened to the rules? When Chad decides to stick around for closing time, the rules get tossed down the drain right along with all the leftover drinks sitting on the bar. Normally, Dick and I kick everyone out and then start cleaning the empty bar but, when stragglers are permitted to stay, cleaning becomes quite an obstacle.

In my head I'm thinking, No No don't stop your conversation and move for me. Just keep talking and drinking while I maneuver heavy bar chairs and sweep around your feet. And that is exactly what they do. Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me! After about 4 of those they finally notice my attempt to clean and move an entire foot out of my way. Again in my head I scream, Stupid Assholes! The worst part is that Chad is amongst them talking up a storm and doesn't even acknowledge that his tired bartenders might want to hurry up and clean and get to bed.

If only I could spit balls of fire directly at the stragglers causing them to burn up and turn into dust, so that I could sweep them right into my dustpan. Only then might I get home at a decent hour.