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Night Spies

We are at Starfish.

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I've been bartending for six years; been here since August. This story took place at a bar I used to work at. One night a gentleman got quite intoxicated and hit on me, which happens quite a lot. A lot of people flirt with the bartender. It's not necessary that you even be cute--you're just the one they're talking too. Anyway, he's doing shots of vodka and he's getting loaded and the guys next to him are saying, "Don't give him any more. Give him water." I knew he was from out of town and wasn't going to be driving anywhere but I thought, "Well, at least this is safer." So I did. He does probably five shots of water and doesn't know it, but now he's belligerent and awful. Eventually he leaves. We close the bar up and my friends and I decide to go to Berlin--and there's the same guy standing by the door watching us walk in, and he has no idea who I am. He starts hitting on me immediately, saying, "Where do you work? You're the most beautiful woman I've even seen--I have a bottle of vodka with your name on it." I was shocked that he could even stand.

--Carrie Christensen, bartender

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