Arthur Winfield Knight

Happy Hour

We’d go into the bar every afternoon at four when Happy Hour began. The bartender would put on CNN when he saw us come in, then he’d pour half a carafe of Chardonnay, bring us two glasses and another one filled with ice because Kit liked her wine to be cold. The oak-handled beer spigots and the wine bottles chilled on ice made a kind of poem in the blue lights strung above the bar.

The bartender always wore a black Stetson because he was bald, although Ned was only in his thirties. He also wore a black vest over a white shirt and black Justin Roper boots because that was what the real cowboys wore. He’d ridden bulls for a living before he got the job as a bartender.

Sometimes, when it was very cold out, Kit and I would take our glasses into the lounge and sit before the stone fireplace that went from the floor to the ceiling. It was very warm in there and the TVs weren’t as loud as the ones in the bar, unless there was a game on.

Sometimes older ladies with blue hair were in the lounge, sitting around the tables, playing cards. The ladies were all very serious about it so they almost never talked to each other, but you could hear the cards sliding across the tables when they were dealt and the logs burning in the fireplace.

There were times when a quiet bar late in the afternoon was nearly perfect.

{Written by Arthur Winfield Knight}