Bruga has a friend from home visiting over the weekend and wanted to show her some of our night life in the city, so last night the three of us, along with Pan, went out dancing. It was a really fun night, though God only knows where Pan ended up. (He has a habit of vanishing in the middle of a night out, or deciding to stay when everyone else is leaving).
He and I were stood at the bar and after Pan had ordered I commented that the barman was cute. “Talk to him,” said Pan, handing me a fiver. So when said barman came back with Pan’s pint, I paid, and immediately realised that made it look as if Pan and I were a couple. Oops. There’s always a way out though, so when the barman came back with the change and handed it to me I asked his name, which he gave as M; “Hi M, I’m Dexxx, and you’ll be my barman this evening.” M blushed and we went off to dance. (Special thanks to KittyMama for the opening line).
Even though the place was busy – not packed like it is on a Wednesday – I did get served by him for the rest of the night, and barely even had to queue. Not my first drink after that encounter but the one after that, I asked “Could I have a vodka lemonade and your phone number please?” (I seem to have this idea in my head that I live in New York and people actually say this stuff to bar staff. As far as I know they really don’t but whatever, it worked) and he sort of started for a second and then went, “Not while I’m working…” and turned away to get my change, having an animated conversation with one of his colleagues at the till. Then as he gave me my change his hand lingered on mine for a second and he continued, “… but you can give me yours!”
Now, I don’t know how many of you have tried to find a pen in a night club, but for me it was certainly a first and it’s really not easy. I had a bit of an aha-moment when I realised the toilet attendants have to fill in time sheets, so I got a pen off one of the friendly ones of them I’d been talking to earlier in the evening. It always pays to be nice to almost everyone. I put my number down on the back of a receipt, making sure it was the right number this time and that my writing was actually legible and went back to the bar.
At this point Pan and I ran into a very friendly girl who was in the club for the first time, and befriended her. She offered to buy us both drinks and I said “Well I’m actually flirting with one of the bar staff…” so she just handed me a twenty and told me what to order. Once I did, and this woman (I think her name was L?) had added three shots onto the order for us, I slipped the receipt with the phone number on top of the twenty and handed both over. I thought L’s eyes were going to fall out of her head at the temerity of it but I explained the rest of the story later. Anyway, barman put our order through the till (giving us the shots for free, cheers pal) and my number in his back pocket.
Boom. That’s how it’s done.
I suppose that technically we can’t term that successful until I get a text from him, so we’ll see whether or not that happens. But the free shots and the fact that he took my number are small victories in themselves, and at any rate it’s a more successful night than Pan’s since he ended up sucking off a 39-year-old tourist in the toilets…