Lemmy Goes to the Pub

It's ten p.m on an unseasonably warm Monday at the end of December. It's that weird time of year between Christmas and New Years. No one really knows what to do with themselves so they just end up partying for about a week.

I found myself in a bar near the bridge with a rag-tag group of friends from various social circles. We all gathered to celebrate the end of a crappy year and the promise of a better one to come. I looked around

our table and no one made a move to order any drinks. Feeling generous, I stood up and grabbed my purse, "I got this round at our table and no one made a move to order any drinks. Feeling generous, I stood up and grabbed my purse, I got this round – just one of you come over to help me carry everything! No one even noticed or nodded at me. I shrugged. Fuck all of you I'm only buying myself a drink then, lousy ingrates.

I walked over to the bar, feeling the buzz of a good night out and the side effects of a joint we smoked earlier, and found an empty stool. Next to me was a tall slender gentleman dressed all in black, including shoulder length jet black hair, black cowboy hat and boots with some strange insignia on them. Sensing me next to him, he turned and tilted his hat in greeting, his weather-beaten face breaking into a huge smile. Were those mutton-chops? Sheesh I didn't think anyone had those anymore – and what were those things on the side of his face? Still there was something intelligent in those sparkling green eyes – intelligent and warm, that I couldn't help but smile back.

Evening, pet, He said, his voice a gravelly British drawl. I noticed he was holding onto a rapidly shrinking Marlboro. What are you drinking?

I leaned over the bar, trying to read the tiny script on what looked like fancy vodka bottles. Following my gaze, the guy tut-tutted and put his hand on my back, You don't want any of those, flower, that's right shit. I'll sort you,

I watched him pull out a matte black cigarette case that had the same dog? Skull logo as his boots, and light a fresh smoke off the butt of his old one. There was a way he carried himself, a whole I don't give a fuck attitude that drew me to him. No one around even looked twice, even though it was illegal to smoke in bars in New York. Even the bartenders and the normally inscrutable bouncers seemed blind to this. It was as if normal rules didn't apply to him – and that just made him more compelling. His wizened, wrinkled face broke into a smile again, showing perfect white teeth that must have cost a small fortune and seemed so out of place with the rest of his weather-beaten face. I could only imagine his real choppers had gotten knocked out in drunken fights with bikers over drugs or girls.

He took a sip of his dark beverage and looked me over, still smiling, Are you enjoying your holiday?"

We made small talk, I found out his birthday was December 24, he was a Capricorn like me and delighted in telling me how Capricorns were determined and good leaders. That's why my I'm so good at leading my band, he confided, I'm pretty much useless at everything else, and I've been told so for most of my life.

He signaled to the bartender, held up two fingers, and two dark drinks were placed in front of us. He handed me one and held up his glass, To Capricorns! he grinned. We clinked glasses and I took a small sip of the jack and coke. More like double jack and an eye dropper of coke.

I looked over at the table where my friends were sitting – they were laughing it up, not even noticing I was gone. I turned back to my new Capricorn friend, I felt he had more to say.

He took a good swallow of his drink and continued, Did you know, we Capricorns have a single-minded focus on our work, sense of responsibility and sincerity? I myself am fiercely loyal to those close to me, sometimes to a fault. He sighed, Ah, but you don't want to hear the ramblings of an old road warrior do you love?