Last Sunday I was invited by a friend (let’s call him H) to go to a
show by an Israeli rock band, Rockfour. The performance was in a pub in
Tel-Aviv, was supposed to be an acoustic concert, and was free of
charge (Meaning they didn’t charge a ticket for the show, not that you
could be in the pub for a long time without being expected to order
something).
We arrived at about 22:00, and the show was supposed to start at
23:00. An hour in advance was supposed to serve the dual purposes of
giving us some time to eat and drink before they start, and to get a
good sitting place before the onrush of the crowds.
Well, one and a half out of two ain’t bad. There were still some
seats by the bar when we arrived, true, but they were on the distant
side of the bar, far from the stage and without a line of sight to it.
Still, we could sit, and for the time until the show starts, that’s
plenty.
Things starting a little late is an all too common occurrence, but
this was more exaggerated than usual. The performance only started at
about 23:50. Not that it was much of a problem, since we are friends,
and definitely had enough to talk about. Plus, there were some amusing
incidents helping to pass the time, which I’ll get to shortly.
Their songs are in English, and, at least according to my friend,
who is a fan, they sang the more well-known ones. At least, he managed
to identify all of them based on the first few notes. At most, I
managed to recognize that some of them sound vaguely familiar…
The performance itself was good. The music is the calmer type of
rock, which I like, and they play and sing well. Although, frankly, I’m
not sure that I’d have labelled it an acoustic show, because apart from
an acoustic guitar, it didn’t seem that anything else fit the bill. In any
case, we received more than good value for our money, so no complaints there.
Before the show started we were sitting, as I mentioned, next to the
bar. At some point some guy arrived to the bar, put down a glass of a 1/3 litre of beer, pointed at it emphatically, and asked the bartender for "another 1/2".
She looked at him oddly and asked "Another 1/2, or another 1/3?". The
guy looked at his glass, looked a larger glass of 1/2 litre that stood
nearby, and pondered. Eventually he came up with "Er… a small 1/2.
Like this." and pointed to his 1/3 glass again. The bartender deserves
a lot of credit, she managed, though barely, to keep a straight face. A
lively discussion ensued, and eventually the guy agreed that he wants
another glass of the same size as the 1/3 glass he had with him (notice
the lack of admittance that it may not be a 1/2 litre glass).
Another guy arrived next to the bar at a different point, and asked
for "diet coke". Mind you, here in Israel, when speaking Hebrew, you
call it "Cola", or in this case "Diet Cola". The only people actually
saying "Coke" are some tourists. This guy wasn’t a tourist, he was
local. Which places him in the different category of people who, very
mistakenly, think they’re very cool.
In any case, he asked for his "Diet Coke", to which the bartender
replied that they don’t serve soft drinks, only alcoholic beverages.
"What, not even a diet coke?". Yes, apparently not even a diet coke.
She asked him if there’s anything else she could give him. The guy gave
it serious consideration, and asked for… soda. Me and H were trying
very hard to avoid bursting out in laughter, I’m not sure we managed.
The bartender, again, kept an almost straight face, and explained,
exactly as she did several seconds ago, that they don’t serve soft
drinks, only alcoholic beverages. The guy gave up, and ordered a beer.
H and I were discussing this, reaching the conclusion that it’s a
silly policy, since they surely stock non-alcoholic beverages for
various mixes, so why not offer to sell them if people are willing to
buy? I came with the classical example of asking if they have a Bloody
Mary (Vodka with tomato juice and some flavouring, if it’s news to
anyone), and when they said yes, asking for a Virgin Mary instead (Same
thing, only without the Vodka. Yes, technically you can call it tomato
juice, but it doesn’t sounds as cool when you sit next to a bar).
But the discussion was moot. Someone else approached the bar, and
asked for mineral water. We were waiting for the bartender to give him
the explanation about serving only alcoholic drinks. Instead, she gave
him mineral waters. We failed to see how mineral waters are an
alcoholic beverage, or to understand why this, apparently available,
option wasn’t suggested to the previous guy.
Later into the evening, a girl squeezed next to H to get to
the bar. This was about the time the show was supposed to start, so the
place was jam-packed with people. Those sitting places of ours were at
a premium. The girl waved at the bartender, but she had to wait for
quite some time, since there were a lot of people waiting in queue. So
in the meantime, apparently to discourage idle small talk, she turned to
my friend and told him that she only wants to order a drink, but she
isn’t social, and so he doesn’t have anything to talk with her about.
Not lacking in ability for retorts, my friend replied that if it becomes difficult they could
always talk about the weather.
Which should have been the closing phrase of the conversation.
Instead, this girl started to talk about the weather. With great
enthusiasm. This is the first time in my life that I saw a "So, how
about that weather" type of line actually working as a conversation starter.
Amazing. So the girl (Let’s call her D) and H started chatting with
each other, and I was trying not to snigger too much in their faces.
Since it was a long wait, a friend of D arrived, offering her a sip
of her own glass. Which contained some sort of a white wine. To which D
replied that wine is for nerds, and refused. An amusing reaction,
isn’t it? Well, not amusing at all, compared to the fun-value of what
she eventually ordered… Yep, wine.
Somewhat later, the show finally started, and H wanted to go closer
to the stage. We decided to be polite, and offer our seats to D and her
friend. So H stood up and went looking for her. There was a coat on his
chair. And I placed my arm over his chair in a very obvious manner. Yet
it took less that three seconds for the first person to arrive and ask
if we’re leaving, and if he can take the chairs. I had to fight a bunch of
them off with a stick, figuratively speaking, until D and her friend
arrived.
H, in the meantime, offered D the seats, in exchange for her phone
number… He was joking of course, and she really would have gotten the
seats regardless, but I’m not sure how obvious it was to her. In any
case, she gave him a number, and the number even turned out to be
real…
So we moved closer to the stage, and actually managed to make our
way very close, so got a good look at the band members and their
equipment. At which point we did have to grudgingly give them the
acoustic guitar, but it still didn’t make this an acoustic performance.
And during the show I needed to go to the toilet. I made my way
through the thick crowd, only to discover that there are several
people waiting ahead of me in line. The first one entered a freed booth
straight away, leaving one guy, and one girl that arrived immediately
after me. The girl was very agitated, and jumped up and down all the
time, expressing her urgency. Eventually she knocked on one of the
booths, yelling at the occupant to move it. A while later, probably
longer than was necessary, just to spite, the occupant left, and
started throwing choice expletives at her. The guy that was first in
line wanted to enter the booth, but a cleaning guy just arrived, and
insisted that he needs to go in and clean first. During the distraction
of the arguments, another booth opened, and some jerk who was behind us
all in line run immediately in and locked the door behind him.
Eventually the cleaning guy, who has won the previous round, went
out, and the first in line got in, leaving me, the jumping girl, and a
couple more guys that arrived in the meantime. The latest one asked
about the queue order, and was dismayed to discover that there are so
many in front of him. At which point the girl, and the guy that arrived
after her, explained that they know each other, and don’t mind
sharing. Yes, just what you’ve heard.
Eventually the hijacker went out, and the girl gave me an agonized
look, asking me to please hurry it. I told her she can go in first,
since it looks like she needs it much more urgently than I do. She
uttered a thank you, and dashed over, only to be stopped by the
cleaning guy that entered before her and started cleaning the booth…
But eventually he went out, and she went in. Alone.
All in all, the evening, or night, went very well. I did made the
mistake of thinking that it won’t be crowded. Which was a very stupid
assumption given that it’s both a popular pub on it’s own account, and
had a free music show by a good band. The thing is, I really don’t enjoy
crowds.
Or, what’s worse at bars, the cigarette smoke. People smoke in
bars. And when you put a lot of them in a closed room… Let’s just say
that the first thing to do after each and every bar visit is throw all
the clothes into the washing machine, to take the stench of the smoke
out.
Both facts, the crowds and the smoke, may help explain why I very
rarely find myself in bars. That, and the loud meaningless noise many of them
like to play as foreground music (yes, that was a snipe at it being
overly loud). But the latter wasn’t a problem in this bar, at this evening,
of course.