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March 23, 2010

Owl Meat's Tipsy Tuesdays: Cursed!

this is a voodoo doll. does it work? you be the judge.

Wow. Just ... wow. I'm going to let Owl Meat tell this story. It almost needs no introduction. Here's Owl Meat:

Phil Collins caused my gruesome death. Indirectly, but still. (As if "Sussudio" wasn't sufficient torture already.)

Let me explain. I was at the bar of a restaurant having a very mellow time. The bar was nearly empty with just two women next to me. They were trying to get the bartender to change the radio until they found something they liked.

I was surprised that this bartender would do it. They were yelling through me across the bar as the bartender changed from Big Hits, Hit Tracks, Classic Rock, or whatever those banal XM "stations" are called.

They switched back and forth between English, Romani (I think) and a mix of both. The topic seemed to be Phil Collins. They were repeating over and over that he was Australian. With the best of friendly intentions, I glanced up from my netbook and said, "I think Phil Collins is English." That was all. The manager was standing next to me and we started talking.

About two minutes later they paid their check, stood up and starting screaming at me ...

They yelled that I was spying on them and that I had no right to interfere in their private conversation. Then the most florid string of swearing filled the bar. Stuff that you reserve for someone who murders your children or worse. Just extreme.

I looked at my friend the manager, she looked at me, we looked at the bartender. We were awestruck. No one could compute what had just happened.

I didn't have time to object and then she put a curse on me. Seriously, a spit-on-the-ground Gypsy curse. I can't repeat it, but basically she wished that I would die alone while being treated in a most undignified violent manner by another man.

The two women left and the three of us looked at each other, paused, and almost busted a gut laughing. It was surreal.

Here's my problem: The inferior quality of Gypsy curses these days. Come on, if someone is going to murder me and stick around to defile my corpse, that's hardly dying alone.

While this is an insane example, it begs the question: How much privacy should you expect at a bar?

In reality you should have no expectation of privacy in a bar. On the other hand, you should be respectful of butting into others' conversations. It's tricky. A bar can be a great place to meet and talk to new people, but some people don't want to talk to you. Any thoughts or stories?

I know I will not die alone. I will die with people asking me to google the O's score, the lottery numbers and the movie schedules. That is the curse of the netbook and Wi-Fi.

(Baltimore Sun archive photo)


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Posted by Sam Sessa at 3:15 PM | | Comments (21)
Categories: Owl Meat's Tipsy Tuesdays
        

Comments

I thought all the crazies were in D.C. this week? They probably to stopped in B'More on the way to or from the Tea Party.

I saw a guy put a curse on Eden's Lounge. I mean he dropped to a knee in the middle of Eager stret and waved his arms in a clockwise manner like a referree and pointed his palms out to them and chanted something. I don't know if it worked but my wife thinks she stepped in front of the curse and forever has a crappy time at Eden's Lounge.

@NotableM - pretty sure the crazies are always in DC... we voted them there.

I am a crazy-magnet. Though I am a harmless, shy lad, I am like velcro for lunatics and people with major personality disorders. Usually they are the most fun, but not so here. I blame Phil Collins. I think he's behind of lot of shady stuff.

If I listen closely, I can hear it calling in the air tonight. Oh lord. Oh lord.

OMG, you and me both.. one of the more memorable ones: an extremely drunk native new jersey-ite in town for his brother's funeral.. apparently he not only took quite a shine to me, almost picked a fight with every dude in the bar including the bartender, but loved telling me the story behind his serbian prison tattoos. My fault on the tattoo story, i asked him what he did time for in serbia. (How did you know!?! he said. Actually they're pretty distinctive if you know what you're looking at...)

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,,,,,,, nooooooooooo.... Sessa!

Against all odds a man in a black leather mask with a cudgel just broke down my door.

I had the reverse problem at John Steven's last week. Just sitting at the bar, minding my own business, when these two (absolutely wasted) guys came up to the bar next to me. One guy kept swaying backwards into my elbow and eventually decided I was his best friend and started talking to me in an incoherent mess of drunken slurring. I'm still not sure what he was talking about but it went on for way too long. He finally left (by walking out the front door, standing there for a minute, then walking back inside and leaving through the side door), and by that time he had pissed off the bartender too.

As far as the question at hand, I think it depends on the location and the crowd. I'd say most places around Baltimore are pretty laid back and promote a socially casual atmosphere. But there are limits for both sides (whether you're approaching the conversation or you're the recipient), and some people are just socially retarded.

Owl Meat GetYourGun,

The gypsy ladies were probably talking about Aussie Rachel Ward.

The "new best friend" situation is really tedious, especially when they start touching you with their dude-on-dude back slapping etc. Get you hands off me you drunken fool.

I think the key is reading the situation and to do that you can't be too much more drunk than the other person or vice versa. I would think that if you really liked Phil Collins you would know he's very English. If someone is talking through you then there is no privacy there.

Doesn't the psycho in American Psycho kill a guy with an ax after he goes on and on about how amazing Phil Collins is? I can see that.

So I guess you're not dead yet OMG. Good luck bro.

When the moon is right, talking to total strangers at the bar is super fun... it also might mean you find yourself walking home alone at 3am when you get asked to leave the after party b/c no one who lives there has any clue who you are. New drunk friends aren't the loyalist of the species. I have found that even the people that are not wanted in a conversation still provide comedic relief from monotony... and make some of the more memorable evenings-- even if it is b/c I was plotting with friends how to extract the intruder from our conversation.

True dat, Samantha. Generally any conversation is better than a bunch of zombies staring at anything at all on the TV.

First off, Owlie, I'm glad to see you have the mojo working with the ladies. That's ok, you don't want any woman who listens to Phil Collins. Phil Collins? WTF.

Second, a bar is meant to be social. Those people who don't want to interact with others should sit at a table, booth or one of those half table/half booth things.

Maybe they were related to a certain guy from Delaware who spoke to the President right before he signed a bill yesterday?

Okay, okay, I'm outta here......

I didn't know Satan was from Delaware

I have a friend who, if he could meet anyone alive or dead, would choose to meet Phil Collins. No joke.

if he could meet anyone alive or dead, would choose to meet Phil Collins.

LOL. The curse of Phil Collins widens

If I could meet anyone alive or dead, it would be Chris Sligh...if I actually knew who the F that was

OMG,You think the Gores played this?

"Seperate Lives"

You called me from the room in your hotel
All full of romance for someone that you met
And telling me how sorry you were, leaving so soon
And that you miss me sometimes when you�re alone in your room
Do I feel lonely too?

You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
We can�t go on just holding on to time
Now that we�re living separate lives

Well I held on to let you go
And if you lost your love for me, well you never let it show
There was no way to compromise
So now we�re living (living)
Separate lives

Ooh, it�s so typical, love leads to isolation
So you build that wall (build that wall)
Yes, you build that wall (build that wall)
And you make it stronger

Well you have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
Some day I might (I might) find myself looking in your eyes
But for now, we�ll go on living separate lives
Yes for now, we�ll go on living separate lives
Separate lives

You really need some help, Sparky

Wow! My curse involved Phil Collins too!

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About Erik Maza
Erik Maza is a features reporter at the Baltimore Sun. He writes for several sections of the Sun paper and contributes weekly columns on music and nightlife. He also writes and edits the Midnight Sun blog. He often covers entertainment, business, and the business of entertainment. Occasionally, he writes about Four Loko, The Block, the liquor board, and those who practice "simulated sex with a potted palm tree." Before The Sun, he was a reporter at the Miami New Times. He's also written for Miami magazine, the Orlando Sentinel, the Sarasota Herald Tribune and the Gainesville Sun. Got tips? Gripes? Pitches? He's reachable at erik.maza@baltsun.com. Click here to keep up with the dumb music he's listening to.

Midnight Sun covers Baltimore music, live entertainment, and nightlife news. On the blog, you'll find, among other things, concert announcements, breaking news, bars closings and openings, up-to-date coverage of crime in nightlife, new music, round-the-clock coverage of Virgin Mobile FreeFest, handy guides on bars staying open past 2 a.m. on New Year's Eve and those that carry Natty Boh on draft. Recurring features include seven-day nightlife guides, Concert News, guest reviews of bars and concerts, Wednesday Corkboard, and photo galleries, as well as reader-submitted photos. Thanks for reading.
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