Feeling like a king again after having my crown re-installed by my dentist. 4000 pesos ($80.) for the rebuild of the crown and gluing it to the stub of my old tooth. We’ll see how long it holds this time.
After the dentist visit, I decided a haircut was in order. I wound up getting scalped despite asking for just a trim. That is twice in a row by two different barbers. I guess the military look is fashionable. Doesn’t really matter though, I wear a hat all the time, and the shorter the cut the longer it will be before I get scalped again.
Popped into Sit-n-Bull for some lunch on the way home. The taco platter was the daily special, so I went with that. I wasn’t disappointed and with the hunger satiated, I hoofed on home.
Pretty exciting day so far, huh? Well, here’s the thing. When it was time to head out for the evening I realized that I just can’t keep going into Barretto every night to drink copious amounts of beer. You just have to realize when it is time to make a change, and that time had finally come. So, I went to Baloy Beach instead to engage in my beer drinking ritual.
My plan was to start at McCoy’s, a nice little beach bar, and go from there. The only issue I have with McCoy’s is they have a damn loud videoke machine and as I approached, sure enough, I could hear someone singing. My intent was just to walk on by, but the manager saw me, and knowing how much I hate bad singing at high volume, signaled that I could sit in one of the nipa huts on the beach. Well, that was such a nice gesture, how could I refuse? Sat down and ordered up my first beer of the day.
I was on my third beer when the customers who had reserved the hut I was squatting in arrived, so I moved to the bar. Fortunately, the singers were drunk and only had a couple of songs left in them, so I stayed for another beer. Then my friend Erik arrived, so another round was in order.
I had the meatball sandwich and another beer. Or was it two?
After dinner, I decreed a nightcap was in order, so we walked a block or so up the road to Johan’s.
My thirst for beer finally satiated, I called it a night and caught a trike home. I failed at drinking my blues away, however, and had a mostly restless night trying to get her off my mind.
“I had the meatball sandwich and another beer. Or was it two?”
I’m reminded of the beginning of Albert Camus’s The Stranger, about a disaffected, detached man who ends up shooting someone at random: “Mother died today, or maybe yesterday. I don’t know.”
Well, here’s hoping this disaffected, detached man has a happier ending. I’m unarmed, so there’s that…