First Date

Ben took a seat at the bar in the Shifting Sands Hotel lounge and surveyed the room. The lounge was empty except for the bartender, who stood at the far end of the gleaming wooden expanse and stared at Ben. 

A looming giant of a man, the bartender could have easily doubled as a bouncer. With his brilliantined hair, starched white shirt, full apron, black slacks, suspenders, and a magnificent, waxed handlebar mustache, he appeared to be a throwback to the early 20th century. He approached Ben while polishing a whiskey glass with a white bar towel.

"What'll it be this evening?"

"Is it always this slow on a Thursday night?"

"The Southwest Reformed Orthodox Baptist annual convention is in town. They booked every room in the hotel through Saturday. They don't drink. Do you?"

The bartender radiated a nervous impatience as he continued to work on the glass with the towel.

"Uh, well yes, I drink."

The bartender gave Ben a sinister grin. "Backslider, eh?"

"No, I'm not with the Baptists. I'm in town for a job interview tomorrow. I must be the only non-Baptist in the hotel."

"Uh huh," the bartender grunted. "What'll it be?"

"Bourbon on the rocks. Whatever you have in the well is fine."

The bartender delivered Ben's drink a couple of minutes later. "Four dollars." He stuck out his meaty hand.

"Charge it to my room." Ben offered his keycard to the bartender.

"Cash only," the bartender growled.

Ben pulled a five dollar bill from his wallet, handed it to the man, and told him to keep the change. The bartender stuffed the bill in his apron and drifted away while wiping a glass.

As Ben savored a first sip of his drink, a reasonably attractive woman in a conservative, wine-colored dress, who looked like she had just come from a business meeting, slid onto the stool next to him trailing an overpowering floral scent. She plunked her purse on the bar in front of her.

"You beat me," she said in a breathless voice. "I wanted to arrive first."

Ben did not know what to make of this declaration. He had never seen this woman before.

"You don't look like the photo in your profile," she observed.

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but the woman cut him off.

"You look much better in person. That's what I meant. When did you shave off the beard?"

"Uh, well, I shaved it off a few days ago." Ben had figured out what was up and decided to play along to see where it might lead. Who knew? He might get lucky. Besides, this was the only action he was likely to get that night, and it beat talking to the surly bartender.

"I don't know why I said that. I guess I'm nervous," the woman offered. "This is the first time I've tried online dating."

The bartender stood before them polishing a glass.

"Oh, hello," the woman said. "Gee, I don't know what to order. I guess I'll have a frozen margarita."

"Salt?" the bartender inquired.

"What?" The woman turned to Ben.

"He wants to know if you want salt around the rim of the glass."

"Okay."

"Can you bring the woman's drink over to our table?"

The bartender scowled and replied, "No waitress."