I was at Lincoln Lounge, enjoying a beer by myself, and started talking to someone working on their mug club card. The guy's talking about being close to finishing, and he's saying he's going to do a second card. I cock my head to the side, a bit curious, and ask the guy why he wants to do a second card. His response was something along the lines of "I hear there's only one person who's done two cards, so I'm going to be next . . . "
Back then, I was the only person who had finished two cards (though Chad finished his second card, and we enjoyed double-fisting mugs when he did), so I do what any normal person would do - I bite my tongue and nod, saying that sounds like a good goal. Chris B. was bartending, and he caught the tail end of this conversation as well, and just plays along. Probably the closest I've been to being "that guy . . . "
Of course, there are plenty of small world coincidences like this. Continuing with stories related to the Lincoln Lounge, there's the couple from SF who ended up at the bar because of my Yelp review.
In Helena, I sort of became the Asian guy at the bar to people who might not know me directly. Helena was tiny, about 30,000 people, and the few Asians in town tended to be tied to a restaurant or two (a Chinese buffet, a Thai place. and a few Chinese carry out places). In fact, I stuck out enough at the bars that when I first moved to Helena, I remember a night at the Gold Bar, where this drunk, grizzled old man came up to me, started talking to me, and then says "Welcome to our country." 100% genuine, no sarcasm what-so-ever. I had no idea how to respond, and was just thinking to myself, "wow, my English is really good for a guy who's fresh off the boat . . . "
Anyway, sometime during my second year in in Helena, there ended up being a Chinese artist at the Archie Bray. So, another guy, close to my age, who would occasionally go to the bars. His circle overlapped with mine a little in that he was dating a VISTA member. Now, he didn't really look much like me - he was a probably a good 4 to 6 inches taller than me, had his hair buzzed, and wore facial hair. I don't remember if my hair was long or short back then, but I got called his name (which I can't remember for the life of me now) a few times at the bar, and I later learned he had had people come up to him and call him Ernie. Crazy, though I guess to be somewhat expected for being a token.
What prompted this whole line of thought though was that I've been asked for a jukebox selection for the Lincoln Lounge. While I'm definitely flattered to have been asked, it may be a sign that I spend way too much time at the bar . . .
CD wise, it's hard. The National's Boxer would have my first choice, and then the Decemberist's Picaresque, but both are already in there. Postal Service is in there already as well. Suicide Machines, Goldfinger, or Op Ivy could be fun, but don't fit the vibe of the bar . . .
CDs that I'm still considering include Green Day's Kerplunk, Reel Big Fish's Turn the Radio Off, some Guided by Voices (though I have no idea which album), REM's Document, Interpol's Antics . . . argh . . . too many choices.
Wow, what a rambling post . . .