4416 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Price of Old Style: $1.75 12 oz. mugs
Sometimes the quality of your evening out depends on who you sit/stand next to in a bar. I know friends that have met their future spouse in a bar, and friends that have gotten into rough fights in a bar. Right place, right time...wrong place, wrong time. Babe's is not a very interesting bar, but the man who I sat
next to changed all that. For blogging purposes, I was in the right place at the right time, but for the safety of myself and my family, I could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Let's call him Aiden (not his real name, but the only name stuck in my head from the last post--I'm seriously terrified that he may come across this blog, track me down and kill me). My bro and I sit at the bar and order our Old Style. There is this guy next to us with a Kansas City Royals hat on, that, within 2 minutes, turns to me and says,
"Do you play tennis?"
"Um, on occasion..."
"Do you know you look like Jim Courier?"
Now, I have heard this many times before, and even a few days earlier mentioned this to my wife as Mr. Courier was at the French Open presenting the trophies to Nadal and Federer. I tell this guy I have heard this many times, and he seems very offended. I try to start conversation...notice the Royals hat and tell him I've been to Kaufmann Stadium and really like it.
"When did you go?", he asks.
"About 10 years ago--they didn't have as many seats in the bleachers as they do now."
"Really, what did it look like back then?" (not really asking me but quizzing me)
"Well, there were the fountains, and the three retired numbers on the scoreboard..."
"Who wore #10?"
"NO!!! Dick Howser wore #10...everyone knows Brett wore #5...what was the other number?"
"20, which was Frank White" (whew...lucky I knew that one)
So, Aiden asks me if we've ever been here before (my brother has made the wise decision to not say a word up to this point). We tell him we haven't and he tells us the same - sure, buddy. Then this exchange happens:
"So I write surveys for a living (?), mind if I ask you a survey question?"
"Sure, go ahead..."
"Who do you love more, your wife or your daughter?"
(WHY DID I MENTION I HAVE A WIFE AND KID???? STUPID!)
"Serious?", as in, what the hell survey is this question coming from, you weirdo...
"Your daughter? You love your daughter more than your wife?"
I turn to my brother, who is basically looking the other way and whistling at this point. Aiden then proceeds to lecture me on why this is the wrong answer, ending with,
"If my mother told me she loved me more than she loved my dad, I would never speak to her again..."
I'm pretty much fed up with this guy by now, but I make the dumb move of turning the tables on him:
"Let me ask you a question...who do you love the most?"
"I think that's a pretty personal question," he says.
"Are you f--king kidding me? What did you just ask me??!?!"
"Ok--an Irish girl..."
"Does she live in the city?"
"Does she know you love her?"
"Does she love you?"
Uh-oh. There it is... This was a bad idea, and I spend the next few minutes trying to convince him that things may change, and then pretty much end the conversation by turning to my brother, thanking him for the support.
"Hey, I at least got a picture of him..."
So, of course, before we leave, Aiden asks, "Who do you think I look like?"