Gumballs

My friend Brian would have had a birthday recently. It's weird, but I miss him more as time passes. Time usually makes things easier.

I want to share a story.

A few years ago, before Katrina, Brian and Gene and I went over to the Evangeline bar in Mid-City. It used to be a dive bar but I think it's changed since the last time I was there. In the back they had two electronic dart boards. Brian and Gene and I were playing and drinking and there may have been one other person in the bar. It was cheap and good fun.

After we were tired of playing darts the proper way, we started throwing them on the run and from weird positions. There wasn't anyone else there so we thought it would be ok.

It turns out it wasn't ok. There was an old lady who either owned or managed the Evangeline. She very rudely asked us to quit.

"We're the only ones spending money in here," Brian spouted angrily.

"Let's just leave," Gene said.

"Yeah, c'mon," I agreed.

"You get outta here now!" the old lady shrieked.

"What? Are you gonna call the cops? They couldn't find this place," Brian raged.

"Let's go," Gene said.

"I'll call 'em right now," she screeched.

"Go ahead! Call the cops. I don't give a shit! I will tell them what kind of cheap-ass swill you serve," Brian argued.

"Ok, that's it. Time to go," said Gene.

"This place sucks!" Brian yelled in the direction of the old woman.

We started moving toward the door.

"You don't scare me! I'm calling the cops right now!" the old woman squealed.

"You stupid old bat. We will never come back here," Brian countered. "We were willing to spend our money here and this is how you treat your customers?"

Then it happened. Gene and I were forcing Brian towards the door. Brian didn't like being pushed, but he wasn't fighting too hard to stay, either.

There was a gumball machine against the wall. Was is the correct word. As we pushed Brian out, the yelling continued and then a fist violently connected with the glass globe that held the gumballs captive. And the fist made solid and sudden contact with the glass shattering it. Gumballs went everywhere as did expletives.

At this point, Brian moved quickly toward the door. When we got outside, Brian and I jumped in his truck with a brake tag which had expired at least seven years prior. We raced off in search of more beer and video poker and Golden Tee.

"I'll just walk," Gene said.

For some reason, I've never been back there. And I haven't bought any gum from a gumball machine either.

I miss you, B. Happy Birthday! I hope heaven has free Abita on tap, crawfish boiling in the pot, fish on the line, and free video golf. Tell Iver hello for me. I miss him, too.