Ordinary Nothing

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.

April 6th, 2005 at 1:53 EET | Categories: Culture | Track comments. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.