When I needed a pick me up, I walked over to Origami's. Corner of Third and Spring. They had the best happy hour in downtown. That is until they changed chefs - but hey, this tale is not about chefs it is about...gossip and body parts.
One night, after working for countless hours in my loft, I put on my flip flops, grabbed my purse, and headed over for a $3 glass of wine and half-price sushi appetizers. Easy. Right? Until...I got to Origami's.
That is when I met the new bartender. He had tattoos all over his arms, a pierced ear - well now that I think about it many pierces in both ears, and he was really in the fashion business and a designer but he was a bartender on the side - if you catch my drift.
I asked him for a glass of wine on the happy hour menu and he said that it had ended five minutes ago and that he couldn't give me the happy hour price. Pleeeeeze I begged. "Nope, no can do - the computer won't take it."
"Oh, I am so disappointed," I said. Resigned to my fate.
Then, he said, with glee, "But, there is no happy hour prices when it comes to wine - all night it is $3 per glass." Hah, hah, hah, he laughed. Oh what a guy.
But that was only the beginning of my night. Seated next to me were what appeared to be two regulars. Since Origami is on the first floor of the Douglas Building, it was no surprise that one of the "regulars" lived in the Douglas. Not one to miss a beat (that would be me), I said, "I live across the street in the Pan American Lofts and I saw a Naked Guy on your roof."
Well, you would have thought I dropped a bomb. The woman regular said in a huffy voice, "There are no naked men on our roof. That would be impossible. But......there is a NAKED WOMAN in your building."
"What???????" I asked. "How do you know that?" "Because, the tenants who live on THAT SIDE of our building have seen her."
"What floor?" I asked. "I have no idea," she answered, "but.......apparently she prances around naked all day with her shades OPEN."
Okay, it was clear that we were in a contest of one upmanship. We glared at one another. Then, she toasted the other regular. I toasted the tattooed bartender, who I clearly had nothing in common with. She embellished her story. I embellished mine.
Until we finally left. Exhausted.
But, between you and me, there was ABSOLUTELY a naked guy on the roof of the Douglas Building and her story was simply bull....
Thank you for listening. And before I forget, I rarely walked around naked.