Sorry All Full...

by Skoobz

The Bamboo Cafe was the first bar I walked into after I moved to Richmond, VA, and it remained my "home" bar for the ten years I lived there. A small corner joint (65 seats) with no listing in the phone book, like most Richmond cafes it also served surprisingly good food out of its tiny kitchen. Most of the bartenders had been there over ten years.

On a slow mid-week night, the dinner and after-work people had gone home, leaving perhaps three or four of us serious drinkers in the place. Clyde the doorman had just assumed his post at the door around ten o'clock, awaiting the onslaught due as midnight neared.

A brand-new red BMW screeched up to the curb outside the window. It had University of Richmond license plates. U of R, while academically respectable, is known as somewhat of a haven for rich kids who couldn't get into the Ivy League schools or UVa as their parents planned. Tonight Marty the bartender was in a pissier mood than usual.

"Clyde," he called to the doorman. "We're FULL."

Clyde brow wrinkled as he surveyed the empty bar, then cleared as he glanced at the frat boys approaching the door. He nodded, opened the door a crack, and apologetically explained that, as so often occured at the Bamboo, the fire marshal's occupancy limit had been met and they would have to wait for someone to leave.

The young men surveyed the near-vacuum behind the large windows. They didn't really understand the situation; it would never occur to them that their presence, disturbing the peaceful calm before it got busy, was being rejected. After a minute, they shrugged, figuratively scratching their heads, and the red Bimmer peeled out in search of tequila shots and insecure girls.