Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Billiards Gangnam Style

Always in search of new adventures, Robert and I are randomly working our way through Denver’s pool halls. I have learned how to play snooker, three ball, and several other games, including a few we made up ourselves. We have played in dive bars, pretentious bars, and one bar where something was not at all right, and even though we could not tell what was wrong the atmosphere was creepy enough to send us scurrying out the door.

The pool halls are usually dimly lit and serve alcohol and food, we usually share a pitcher of beer and an appetizer. This week’s hall of interest was a place called Q. It was a small place, at the end of a tiny strip mall, with a lingerie shop across the parking lot. When we entered we were bombarded with lighting bright enough to make me wonder if they were doing surgery on the tables instead of playing pool. After the glare wore off and my eyes adjusted, I realized two things. Three actually. We were the only Caucasians in the place, the dozen or so patrons had all stopped playing to watch us with interest, and the pool tables didn’t have any pockets in them. There was no sign of a bar or snack bar either. Hmmm.

The proprietor greeted us with a big smile and warm welcome. I got the feeling they didn’t often have fresh players wander in off the street. He attempted to explain the game that didn’t involve pockets, which I pretended to understand. Heled us to one of only two tables that had pockets, then ceremoniously presented me with a pool stick to use for the evening. It had been signed by a famous player, and he was quite proud of it. I felt honored that he would trust me with it, and hoped it would bring me good luck.

Eventually the others lost interest in us, or at least resumed their games and watched us more slyly. Except the proprietor and two other men, who continued to scrutinize our game and offering tidbits of advice. A sign on the wall pointed the way to refreshments, complimentary to any paying pool player. I followed the direction of the arrow, always in search of food, and stopped at a round folding table that sat in the corner of the room. The refreshment table. In the middle of which sat a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and one of jelly, and a basket full of hard boiled eggs. I passed on the refreshments. The fancy stick brought me good luck, and we thanked the gentleman kindly when we settled up after a few games.

May 3, 2013 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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