In Eastpoint, there used to be a bar right on the highway. It was dark and musty - not a place for tourists. Sometimes there would be folks catching crawdads in the muddy ditches out front. Other times, people would huddle in the parking lot to smoke. Inside, a wooden floor was stained with dark splotches from arguments turned violent. The windows were so covered in dust, you could barely see through them. And, the cloud of cigarette haze hanging over everyone gave it a mysterious look - haunting, sad. Men and women in muddy boots would drink until they stumbled out of the door at closing time. Or until their loved ones would come in cursing and drag them out with threats of unimaginable repercussions. Patrol cars would cruise around outside like hungry birds of prey. Nights were chaotic, unpredictable.
Late one evening when the air was thick with heat and humidity, a summer storm bellowed through the trees, moving in quickly. I pulled off the highway, hoping to grab a quick beer on my way home before the rain hit. Familiar faces peered at me from smoky corners - some friendly, some not. I moved down to the end of the bar and found an empty stool, away from the other patrons. After several hostile glances, the bartender came over and I placed my order. He grudgingly set a beer down in front of me and I slid him a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change,” I muttered, hoping it would improve his attitude.
Thunder boomed and lightning cracked and suddenly the lights went out. The only things visible were orange tips of cigarettes. Something brushed past my foot and caused me to tremble at the thought of huge rats that frequented the area. No one spoke for a few minutes, then a flashlight came on behind the cash register. The bartender fumbled around under the bar for something. Candles, I assumed. Before long, a scent of hot wax permeated the air. Rain began lashing at the window panes. Panic set in as I tried to remember if the windows in my car were rolled up.
“Remember me?” someone asked. Stale whiskey breath emanated from a long, sun furrowed face peering at me through the flickering candlelight. Then, a burst of lightning seemed to strike the very building we were in.
“From where?” I inquired, searching my brain for recognition.
“Two weeks ago you like to have run me off the road,” came the furious reply.
“Wasn’t me!” I responded in alarm.
“You drive that black truck with one headlight out?” he pressed.
“Nope. I got an old blue car.” I said in relief.
“Guess it was somebody else, then,” mumbled the man as he walked away, white oyster boots shining in the pale glare of candlelight.
I drank my beer slowly, trying to wait out the gale that was quickly intensifying. Something large crashed down outside and a thrumming roar began.
“Get away from the window!” yelled a woman’s shrill voice. Everyone began to move to the back of the bar around me. A collective anxiety was palpable.
“Gimme another shot,” someone growled as the bartender joined the crowd.
“And could I get another beer?” I asked when the bartender was close enough.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered in a far friendlier tone than before. I handed him another ten.
Then the rain began to let up and thunder became more distant. The lights came back on and everyone resumed talking as they reclaimed their barstools. A woman came up and grabbed the man closest to me and hauled him back across the room, giving me an ugly glance. “Hey! That’s my beer!” snarled a large tattooed woman as she snatched the beer from my hand. Judging from the size of her biceps, I felt it best not to argue, and she sauntered away with the last few dregs. Ice clinked in the glasses, the juke box wailed something about broken hearts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The front door creaked as I opened it, letting in the fresh smell of wind and rain. Then, the bartender nodded a quick goodbye as I left, giving him my friendliest smile. Outside, a huge oak limb lay on the ground where it had been torn from the tree above. Thankfully, it had missed all the vehicles in the parking lot. Several police cars raced down the highway, blue lights swirling, leaving an eerie glow in their wake. And, thankfully, my windows were up.
