I am sitting at the desk in Rockin Rodeo's office finishing up an order with the local coffee company and in walks my manager saying "It is tippity tap time". I then get excited, grab my gear and run down the stairs. We drive to this bar, Whats on Tap II, where I am currently working at now. We walk in and are immediately greeted by this rather large gentleman sitting at the end of the bar. In front of him is a laptop with his current fantasy football lineup. He has a large coke in one hand and a Marlboro Light in his other. His way of greeting us was a little aggravating, especially since it took us several hours to accomplish our paper work at the club. He says, "Oh man! My paperwork took me sooooo long to finish. It took me ten minutes as opposed to five minutes today". Of course we say something along the lines of screw you and exchange bear hugs and sit next to the manager of tap, Big Mike. It was a tradition to go there every Monday for lunch. We would down a few Blue Moons, eat a wrap, play golden tee, and talk mad shit to Big Mike. It seemed like the crew we would go with got bigger and better each week. He always accommodated us and made us feel at home. He even tolerated our sappy songs by the Avett Brothers and Jeff Buckley.
A few months pass and I quit Rockin Rodeo by walking out mid-shift. It was very childish and immature on my part, but I felt that it was right to do just that at the time. There was a lot of turmoil and chaos within the company even trailing back to the corporate office. Ultimately, I had enough. I went through a few month period of being jobless and wallowing in my misery. One day, I get a phone call from my long lost friend, Big Mike. He asks me if I will start working at the Tap. I immediately said yes and I once again had a job. He was my savior at that point. Christmas was right around the corner and I needed to catch up on bills, buy presents for my kid, and get back on track.
Starting at the Tap was a huge culture shock for me. I learned to tend bar in a high volume setting. I never had to speak to my customers other than "What can I get ya?". Tap was a whole different beast. People expected me to talk, learn about them, and engage in long discussions with them. Mike helped me with that. He told people that I was a different breed than what they were used to. I was the "hippy" of the place with more liberal views than what my guests were used to. In attempt to comfort me he would say "Oh my little red velvet cupcake squall, you are so pretty!". He always made fun of me for wearing my Toms, which he said they were Native American Moccasins and my little nickname was born.
Shortly after starting to work with him, I found out I was pregnant. I was a little scared and nervous because I worried he thought that I was hiding it from him. I dropped the bomb and he replied with, "Oh you are having a little beaner squall!". Mike called my boyfriend Ben, "beaner". All he asked was for me to keep it from my bar guests as long as I could. On one busy Saturday night, I started bleeding. I called my coworker, Goose, to come take over my shift so I could go to the hospital. The whole time I was at the hospital, Big Mike was text messaging me to check on us. He was out of town at that time, but he made it a point to make sure I was okay. I ended up miscarrying the baby and he was so supportive. Mike wanted me to take off a couple weeks to heal and get my head right. Naturally, I only took a couple days off and was back at it. As I walk in to my shift, he greets me with the biggest hug I have ever received and I immediately thought about how lucky I was to have such a supportive boss.
As time passed, I noticed Big Mike getting a little more depressed by the day. He was a lost soul caught up in the service industry. He had been tending bar for about twenty years and never got out. Mike had a nursing degree, was very intelligent, and extremely fit when getting into the scene. The money was good, so he never got out. Over the span of twenty years, he put on about two-hundred pounds, got extremely unhealthy, and let himself go. At one point, he tried to diet but the results weren't happening as fast as he wanted and then gave up.
The only time that I ever saw him happy was on Saturday mornings. He would tend bar during that day and would have a lot of his friends come in to goof off with. They coined themselves as members of the short bus. Mike was the driver of the bus and they were his passengers. The guys were all a bit older, crazy, and so much fun to be around. The short bus would get day drunk and go home to bask in their intoxication that night. I would come in for shift change and all of the guys would be in tears from laughter and stumbling around the bar. It was definitely a scene to watch!
Ultimately, Big Mike left the bar to get healthy, leave the bar scene, and pursue a different life. However, the rule of the bar scene is that once you are in it, it is hard to get out. He then picked up a management gig at the Buffalo Wild Wings. Ben and I would visit him when we could, and he would return the favor. The last time I saw him he popped into the bar to visit me, and we talked shit to one another. Unfortunately, I was pretty busy so I didn't get to talk to him as much as I would like. I did, however, get to tell him that Ben and I were expecting again and he was overcome with joy.
Several weeks pass, and I am getting settled in after attending a close friend's father's funeral. I receive a phone call from my coworker and then manager, Goose. He was sobbing and I could barely make out what he was saying. It was raining heavily outside, and the mood got worse. Goose told me that Big Mike just passed away. I then grab my big belly and slowly melt into my couch. I was speechless. Big Mike died on his bathroom floor from having a heart attack. All I could do was say I am sorry to him and then sit in silence for a long, ominous time. I did not attend his funeral. I didn't want my last memory of him to be in a big wooden box. I wanted my last memory of him to be him sitting on the other side of the bar, talking shit while drinking a coke and smoking a Marlboro Light.
The day of his funeral we held a memorial service in his honor at the Tap. The bar was filled with a hundred of his friends from all portions of his life. We each spoke of our greatest memories of him and drowned in beer. I didn't drink because I was pregnant. Everyone drank plenty for me. We closed with a large toast, led by Goose. He gave a beautiful, heart-felt toast, and everyone took a Tuaca bomb in his honor. I poured Big Mike's shot on the floor in his honor.
"Well bud, you beat me out of this hell hole. It's crazy and unexpected to know that you are gone, but I'm sure you are much happier. Hell, it rained the day you died. If that's not proof that you are at peace, than I don't know what will. I hate that you will miss meeting the baby half squall half beaner, but I'll be sure to tell her all about you. You were a great friend, a funny boss, and a wonderful person. Every time I have a blonde moment I will always hear you say, "Oh, my little red velvet cupcake squall, you so pretty." Ha. I'm going to miss you! Have fun coaching a soccer team, dominating fantasy football, and hitting up the green in heaven! Love you, Mikeydoodle!"
I hope his story will be a lesson for all of us. We don't need to settle because it is easier. We need to pursue our goals, our dreams, and not get caught up in a comfort zone. It will lead to our deaths, ill timed, and miserable. Mike taught me to treat bartending as a temporary fix, but to never let it last. He will forever be in our hearts, our minds, and in our booze.
