Incident at a Pub

How many times in your life have you heard someone start a joke with, "a guy walks into a bar"?  Pretty often, right?  Frequently, the guy described in the joke is apt to be hoodwinked in the few minutes following his arrival.  Well...let me introduce you to one of the newer guys in this category.  That would be me.

When we were planning our trip to Scotland and Ireland, one of the adventures that called out to me the most was having the "pub experience."  Whether it was through movies, stories from travelers, or just my imagination, I have always wanted to be immersed in the local pub atmosphere of these two countries.  It was in these places, I had imagined, that the gaiety level is incredibly heightened, the live music promises a most believable soundtrack, and the beer wonderfully amplifies the mood.  Getting down with the locals; that was the goal.

It was one of our first nights in Scotland, in Oban to be precise.  Oban is a very picturesque and charming example of Scottish coastal towns.  This one is a bit northwest of Glasgow.  There was a block in one of the local streets that seemed reserved for pubs there were so many of them.  We decided to go in to one whose name I cannot remotely remember.  It was Lily, Maggie and I.  We found a table near the back of the place sitting directly across from a couple of elderly gents who were providing music, one on an accordion, the other on some kind of drum.  Empty beer bottles were amply on display in front of them.

We could see soon enough that to get a beer one needed to get up to the bar and get the bartender's attention which I volunteered to the ladies I would do.  I got to the end of the bar and found myself staring at a display of the many beers on tap none of which were at all familiar to me.  To  my left was a huge guy seriously working on his beverage.  I looked over at him and asked him what he might suggest as a choice in beer.  He gave me a frowning look and said, "Well, what kind of beer do ya like"?  I shrugged and offered that I often like a pale ale.  His frown deepened and he looked down at me and said, "Oh no, that's a fookin' girlie drink!  You can't be a man and do that!"  I'm not sure what was more pronounced, my laughter or my embarrassment.  So, I figured a follow up question was in order and I asked the fellow to recommend a beer to me.  He pointed to his now almost empty pint and then pointed to the tap where I might find more of his favorite.  Quickly getting caught up in the moment, I gestured to the bartender that I'd like one of what the big guy had suggested.  A glass was filled and placed in front of me.

Almost immediately, a fellow to my right tapped me on the shoulder.  He looked at me and, gesturing at my newly poured beer, asked me if he might have "a wee sip."  Caught up in the mood and a desire to fit in with my new cronies, and definitely caught off guard, I said sure.  Well, the guy takes my glass and drains it!!!  Every last drop of it!  He lets out a satisfying sigh, nods his approval to me, and places the empty glass back on the bar.  I am not sure whether to be howling with laughter or deeply offended, but I could see immediately that a number of folks in the immediate vicinity were falling down laughing.  I was exclaiming out loud, "Whoa! What just happened here?"  Welcome to pub life, I concluded.

Turns out that the fellow asking for merely a wee sip, but whose ambition far exceeded his request, was the owner of the pub.  When the laughter died down, he calmly went behind the bar, got a new glass, and gave me a full one.  That's getting your chain yanked, Scottish style.  Lily and Maggie found it quite entertaining.

And, I knew this trip was going to be pretty special.