The Meeting:

(just having fun with trying different styles of writing)

By: Christine McFarlane

I sauntered into Gabby’s Bar and Grill and looked around to see if there was anyone around that I knew. I wanted to keep my upcoming meeting a secret, until I was sure I knew how it would turn out.

Gabby’s was a hop, skip and jump away from my apartment building.  I had been there a few times, and the waitress knew me. I got myself ready. Because of the proximity of the bar, I could leave in five minutes. My date would probably arrive a few minutes afterwards.

I pulled together a quick outfit-black jeans, and blouse. I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and phone and walked out the door. After fumbling with my keys for a second, my front door was locked and I was outside.

I put on my earphones, and cranked up the tunes on my iphone, and started my jaunt over to the bar. I arrived in seconds. Standing in the doorway of Gabby’s, I took a deep breath, and pulled the door open. My eyes had to adjust from the outside light to the dull yellow indoor lights. They took in everything around me. I saw the worn out tables and worn wood chairs. There were a few booths, but nobody seemed to be occupying them that night. It looked like the few people that were there, wanted the tables instead. That worked fine with me.

I was standing there for what seemed like forever, when in actuality I had only been there for five minutes. The waitress came to greet me.

“Hey Christine! Welcome to Gabby’s, where would you like to sit tonight?”

I tell her



“Oh a booth at the back please, a friend is going to be meeting me soon.”

“Okay, follow me,” she says rather cheerfully.

I adjust my purse on my shoulder, and start walking with the waitress. She shows me to a booth, and as I am about to sit down she asks

“Will you be wanting anything from the kitchen tonight?

She launches into the special for the night

“We have a pound of chicken wings with a pint of your choice, or you can have our house salad with another entrée, the beer will cost a little more.”

I tell her, “I need a few minutes”

Nodding her head, she says

“Oh okay, I will be back shortly then,”

I settle into the booth, and put my phone down in front of me. I pull out a pen and a little red notebook from my purse, and think what can I write tonight?

It’s sad I know, writing at a bar, but I think to myself

“I should get some good material tonight. I just have to, my story is due tomorrow.”

I look around at the other customers and their parties knocking back pint after pint. The owner of the bar walks by, and glances my way. He has seen me before and is good about me coming in to do some writing. He knows I’m not a troublemaker, and that I’m just a writer trying to get material for her stories.

 A few minutes later, I feel a presence at my shoulder. I look up, and the waitress says

“I figured you would want the usual.”

And puts down a nice cold glass of beer. My phone rings….

“Hello?”

It’s my date on the other end saying

“Hey its me. I can’t make it tonight after all. There has been an emergency.”

“Okay,” I say rather dejectedly. I should have known this would happen, I think to myself.

Not too long afterwards, I met someone. She was tall, with an hourglass figure and was a striking pale blond. She’s a huge contrast to who I am used to hanging out with. At first she was cold, but as I got used to her, I felt warmed by her presence.

Her name? Stella… Stella Artois. The finest beer I ever drank.