Had a blast from the past last night when the kitchen staff at my sister’s ski area got a bit overwhelmed by the influx of hungry motocrossers. I jumped in to help take orders, deliver baskets of chicken wings, and replenish the frontside coolers.
The difference between past and present was that this ski area restaurant has a bar, where I had to do crazy things like distinguish Bud Light from Budweiser and Coors Light on tap from the stuff in the bottle and discover that there is no Bat’s Blue beer.
Can you tell I’m not a beer drinker?
But tending bar…that could be kinda fun, at least if you always had as friendly and hyped-up a crowd as we have here tonight.
Maybe a bar tender isn’t the kind of character to show up in most of my children’s fiction, but I could definitely see revisiting the small mom-and-pop restaurant kind of work that I remember being such fun when I was in high school. Hard work, don’t get me wrong, but fun. I like interacting with all kinds of different people, which I don’t do as much in my safe little world these days.
And I like being able to go home afterward and decompress.