By Craig P. Dixon, southcoast247.com correspondent Social Commentary 81
October 17, 2006
At 8 o’clock on a Wednesday October night, a man walks into a bar on
Martha’s Vineyard. He’s from way outta town…Las Vegas…and used to even the
shadiest of dive bars slammed with business at all times of day.
But that’s not the case in Edgartown. Eight men are seated near the door at
the long polished altar, worshipping Bacchus, Dionysus, or perhaps even
drinking the blood of their Lord and Savior as they whoop over the day’s
news. Two very hard looking women lean against the pub wall, slurping vodka
tonics and talking about nothing worth a damn as the evening bleeds
painfully slow into the eventual dawn of a new day.
A day closer to home for the bartender.
He tosses a coaster on the bar in front of the now seated Nevadan and asks,
“What’ll it be?”
“Goose Cranberry.”
“Sure,” the bartender replies. “Be right up.”
He steps away for a moment, then returns with the requested beverage.
“There ya go. Is it gonna be one, or should I start a tab?”
The Nevadan takes a sip. “No, I think I’ll just have one.”
“Alright, that’ll be $8.50, please. But no rush...whenever you’re ready.”
"A busy beach day: oak bluffs, october '06."
The bartender leaves to check on the other customers. After popping a few
beers and pouring some shots, he returns to take a twenty from the Nevadan.
He cashes it out, hands off $11.50 change, and turns again to make sure the
hard drinkers are all set.
“Sir…?” The Nevadan asks.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Where is everyone?”
The bartender looks around the bar. “What do you mean? Are you looking for
someone?”
“Why’s the bar so dead? Where are all the people?”
“Well, all the drinkers are here July and August – college kids. Come
September, they get traded off for geriatric bus tours, older couples,
wedding parties and such. Days are busy, but nights are usually pretty
quiet. Weekends are still ok, but not summertime busy. By Columbus Day,
everybody’s gone.”
The Nevadan shakes his head. “I just don’t understand it. Where I’m from
it’s always busy.”
“Where ya from?”
“Las Vegas.”
The bartender smiles. “Well, my friend, you’ve got year-round sun, gambling,
strippers and whores to keep people entertained. Here, we’ve only got our
summers. Once they’re over, the season’s over.”
“I don’t understand it.” The Nevadan mutters. “Don’t the locals come out?”
“Locals?” The bartender tilts his head back and laughs. Then he leans
forward and whispers gravely. “Man: You’re lookin’ at ‘em.”
The Nevadan glances around the bar and nods.
“They’ll be out by 10 tonight and in bed by 11. It’s all over.”
“I see. But how do you people make enough cash to stay here year round?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m outta here on Columbus Day.”
Guess who is back in New Bedford?
Comments? craig@southcoast247.com
But that’s not the case in Edgartown. Eight men are seated near the door at
the long polished altar, worshipping Bacchus, Dionysus, or perhaps even
drinking the blood of their Lord and Savior as they whoop over the day’s
news. Two very hard looking women lean against the pub wall, slurping vodka
tonics and talking about nothing worth a damn as the evening bleeds
painfully slow into the eventual dawn of a new day.
