I'm sitting next to this guy Greg. He's in his mid forties, and according to him big things are happenin in the cosmos man, lotsa universal friction man, and like he's out of here man, can't take this shit no more, man. Then another kid plops down on the other side of me. Tan trench coat, blue oxford, maroon tie, and an oxblood briefcase, which he sets on the bar. Greg pipes up, no briefcases on the bar, man. Kid obliges. And he is smashed, doesn't know where the fuck he is. I'm smelling johovah's witness. He keeps staring at me like he wants me to unload his brain pain. I ask him hows he doing. He says not good, and if I believe in anything. Stolichnaya was my response. He says "well I believe in the lord jesus christ" and proceeds to bring his case back on the bar. I tell him there is no fucking way he is opening up that briefcase. Jesus freaks only carry one of two things in their briefcase, bibles and guns, and I didn't want to see either of those two things. He starts prodding into my belief system. I tell him that I'm an athiest and I don't believe any of the gibberish spilling from his word hole. "You don't belive that." "Oh yeah, yeah I do." He walks away to pester booth dwellers.

Earlier that same night, there was an old man screaming he was going to rip people's hearts out. At one point he threw his wad of cash on the floor, mostly hundred dollar bills. Drunk old sour pain in the ass. Genuinely contemplated rolling him out in the street. Nasty cuss, picking fights, spewing garbage and tension. Aemon eventually had to drag his ass out. Snuck in through the back door and tackled a kid, who tossed him to the jukebox, gashing his forehead. Everybody was outside, so I yanked him off the floor. Luckily Aemon saw it, rushed back in, and chased the bugger down the street. Shoulda raided his pockets.