Anxious Debbie and the Chicken Wings

Last night I was scheduled to play a bar in the upper West Side called Prohibition. It's a very nice place, a cleaner and more spacious version of The Back Fence in Greenwich Village. They pay well, and they treat me very well. Although it is always a grind to get up there to play from my place in Brooklyn, I'm always satisfied after, and the shows always go great.I arrive, and the bar is sparsely filled with people, most of them watching the football or baseball game. I enjoyed some dinner there - they have very tasty sliders - and a stiff Gin and Tonic before my set started.

I began to play, and about halfway through the first set, three heavyset, blond, older women entered the bar, snickering, and walked past me, sitting off to my right. They were not within my peripheral vision while looking forward, so besides that first pass, I paid them no mind.

Halfway through the first song they heard from me, they started "Woo"ing and clapping. It was mid-song, so I did not acknowledge them. Then, about 5 songs in, two of the women stood up, and started to dance, hand-in-hand, which was fun, and totally acceptable by me and by the bar. I played two more songs, and then took a break.

As I was walking out the door to buy a Gatorade next door at the bodega, the waitress called out to me, and told me the three women would like to buy me a round, and asked if I would join them. I said that would be fine, and I would be right back.

I walked back in, drinking my Gatorade, and placed it on the stage, when I hear a woman project loudly: "Did he get our drink??" The waitress again came over and asked what I wanted to drink, and I ordered another Gin and Tonic. She then pointed towards the women, and I, for the first time, turned to look at them:

#1 - Dyed blond curly hair, glasses, very portly, large breasts, smiling widely and motioning towards me. She looked to be about 45 years old. She was not dancing earlier. Attractiveness overall (out of ten): 3 sober, 5 drunk (meaning when I was drunk, what would I give. And I would have to be very, very drunk for this rating.)


#2 - Tall, blond hair, average to only slightly overweight, eyes half-open, indicating extreme intoxication. She was dancing along to the background music as she turned to see me. Attractiveness overall (out of ten): 6 sober, 7 drunk (definitely not a disgusting middle aged woman, just a drunken mess)


#3 - Short, blond hair, blue eyes, prettiest face of the three. She was overweight, but she wore it well, large breasts, hair straightened and seemingly fried from too much dying. But she was a good looking woman, for sure. She saw me, and looked very anxious, and only half-smiling. Having said that, a less perceptive person wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary, as she sat farthest away from the group. Attractiveness overall (out of ten): 4 sober, 7 drunk.

All women, it must be noted, were wearing very chic formal dresses, that all shimmered and hugged their curves.

I walk over, and the waitress brought my drink over, and #1 pulls a chair out and says "please join us," grinning like a god-damned fool. #1 is to my left, #2 directly in front of me, and #3 to my gradual left, sitting with a space between her and #2.

#1: You were just wonderful - did you grow up in Buffalo? She noticed my University at Buffalo t-shirt.
Me: Yes, born and raised. I moved here.... (cut off)
#1: I went to college in Buffalo, you know. What part are you from?
Me: South Buffalo, the Irish neighborhood.
#1: Oh right, that's near Allentown! Did you ever eat Bocce's pizza?
Me: Well, it's polar opposite side of the city than Allentown, and yes, I've had Bocce's pizza.

The #2 woman reaches out to me then, grabs both my hands, puts them in hers, and starts to sway them side-to-side, along with the beat, and then says:

#2: Come on, let's dance.

She starts to get up out of her chair.

I hesitate, saying I need to begin my next set soon. That was enough to get her to sit back down.

Me: Thanks for the drink, by the way. So what are your names?
#1: I am Eileen.
#2: I am Carolyn.

#3 did not introduce herself, because I don't think she could hear me ask.

Carolyn: You gotta play some more dance stuff. Oh by the way, this is Debbie, she has lung cancer! ::smiles:: You know, you gotta dedicate a song to her, she has surgery on Tuesday. Yeah, ::points at Debbie:: she's deciding between Sloan-Kettering and a doctor at NYU.

Debbie's eyes got wide, completely stunned.

Me: (to Debbie) seriously? ::she nods, eyes wide open:: Wow, I'm sorry to hear that. You're going to be fine, you know that right?

Debbie raised her eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say "we shall see." The truth is, she will probably not be fine. The 5-year survivability for lung cancer is only 4%. It's the second worst, next to pancreatic cancer. She was, however, seeing one of our doctors in the Thoracic service at MSKCC, which is a major plus. This doctor, in particular, is one the best doctors in the world.

Just then Eileen put her hand on my knee, and smiled.

Eileen: You know the only place to get good Buffalo wings in New York?....

I shake my head to say no, I don't.

Eileen:....my house, cuz I'll make them for you. ::winks, and squeezes my knee::

I half-smiled, and Debbie looked at all of us, face frozen. Carolyn piped in:

Carolyn: What song are you gonna play for my friend!?! She is dying of cancer!!! (Said with a grin, as if she had just gotten engaged.)

I ignore this comment, and lean in and say:

"Listen, Debbie, you're going to be fine. I work at Sloan-Kettering, and they have the best doctors in the world." She nodded slightly, still with wide-eyes, and I now saw the tears in her eyes.

I then informed them I needed to go back up to play, and my head was heavy about what had just happened. Who the fuck ARE these people!? And who the FUCK blurts out something so terrible, so tragic, so frightful, with complete reckless abandon. How is Debbie even in the same room as these people!?!

I get on stage, and played "Faith" by George Michael, because I thought it would be light, and well-received, and had a great message: got to have faith. The women "Woo-ed" at me during the song - well two of them. Debbie just sat there, obviously overcome with anxiety.

"Play something for cancer! Play something for our friend!"

It was Carolyn! I didn't even acknowledge her. I could not believe any of this!

About three more songs into this, I noticed Eileen was now sitting at the main bar, talking to a thirty-something man, and had her arm around him. He was none too interested. Then, I look to my left, and Carolyn is standing in the aisle, head-banging back and forth to the music, as her long, split-ended dyed hair flailed side-to-side, up-and-down, everywhere. Debbie sat there, facing towards me, just watching me sing, eyes still very wide.

Carolyn and Debbie then got up and started to dance to my music, and Debbie cracked a smile for the first time in about an hour. You could tell it made her happy to move around. Just then, two middle-aged men walked in, both with male-pattern baldness on their heads, and both dressed in polo shirts. I heard them introduce themselves to the ladies, and one referred to the other as his "business partner." They were complete and total douche bags.

The men started to dance with the Carolyn and Debbie, and Eileen, noticing this, hopped off the stool, and started to dance, too. She rubbed her flat, square-shaped butt up against the taller of the two men, who loved that, and started dancing with her exclusively. The other man gravitated right towards Carolyn, and they started to grind almost immediately. Debbie was dancing by herself, and at one point went back and sat on a bar stool, facing away from her friends.

About two songs later, I hear a giant "WOO!" from their area, and see Carolyn, and the man deeply, deeply making out. Groping, dry humping - everything. She had her hand under his shirt, and the other resting on his bald spot. He had both hands firmly on her butt cheeks, and then started to move in and rub her crotch. The "WOO" was because of the onset of making out, and came from Eileen.

Eileen and the taller man then walked towards the bar, and he got on a stool. Eileen then backed into him, so they were both facing me, and was grinding her butt into his crotch along to the beat. He sat there, with a huge grin, and was clapping.

Debbie saw this, and smiled for a split second, and the tall man thought he was giving her eyes. Since she was absolutely more attractive than Eileen, he started to touch her hair. Except, he was too far away to fully grope her, and he was unable to move on account of Eileen's grinding. So, instead, he was grabbing her hair in strands, the way you would if there was gum stuck in it - carefully, in small clumps, almost examining it. Debbie just looked at him, and sipped her drink by the straw, showing no emotion. Carolyn and her man continued to suck each others face behind her.

There was a young couple sitting next to the stage that were incredibly polite and fun, suggesting great songs for me to play, and also very responsive, in a good way. They were watching this whole thing, with horror, and the young woman looked at me, and I said out of range of the mic: "Oh, you don't even KNOW...."

I finished my set for the night, and walked off stage with my gear, and had one last glance at the situation. By now, the tall man and Eileen were making out, and groping. Carolyn and the other man continued to make out. Debbie was sandwiched in between the two couples, but they were each so close to her that she could not fit both of her butt cheeks on the stool! You know, Debbie, the woman with lung cancer, the woman out trying to forget about the gravity of her illness, the one whose fear is palpable, even to a perfect stranger! She was squished in, with one cheek on the stool, the other, hanging off, her leg dangling. She looked straight ahead into the mirror behind the shelves of liquor, emotionless. As I left I caught her eye and smiled briefly, my spirit hurting for her. She looked back wide-eyed, this time with a furled brow, and half smiled. I walked out.

SO, I ask you: With friends like these, could cancer actually be better?? HOLY SHIT.