Hair Curling Tales from the Front Line
So, I was incoming capo di tutti and my club is not composed of teetotallers. Kind of the opposite, a convincing part of my campaign was hanging out in the smoking lounge with the kool kidz. Not the coolest ones mind you, they smoked reefer and while I did and do it was not part of what I consider my public image, besides they belonged to my opponent’s local so I did the polite thing and stumped them just as hard as I did everyone else which didn’t win me any votes but made governing easier, after the election they were among my most loyal supporters.
So yeah, just like High School. Everything is.
As capo I had stuff and things that National wanted me to do and most of them involved me traveling to some flat state flyover backwater to cast a meaningless vote and get positively pasted and polluted for a weekend.
It’s a wonder I got anything done at all.
On my initial outing they sent a minder (to make sure I voted the right way), or rather tapped a past capo to “guide” me. I didn’t worry about it since I knew him and he had been a big promoter of my candidacy (well, he hated the other guy more).
We’re in a New York Airport, don’t quite remember which- probably LaGuardia and after checking in we hit the bar like any sensible person who knows your $6 drink is going to be $12 on the plane. I like to close my eyes because I’ve seen the tops of enough clouds.
We have a few and it’s time for the gate. My patron, who has kindly volunteered his expense account to pay for our tab starts this screaming fight with the bartender over it instead of quietly deducting from the tip. After being literally thrown out we find our flight delayed and sheepishly return. Of course it’s the same barkeep, it’s only been 15 minutes.
“You’re cut off.”
Cut off at an Airport Bar? This is your Kavanaugh moment.
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