All My Little Words

When I read the bulletin that last night was Kincora’s last night to Alex, he asked me if I was going to go, presumably to say my goodbyes to a bar that played a big part in making Seattle what it is today – formerly Squid Row and Tugs, just to mention a couple of infamous places that previously occupied the corner building of what had become one of Seattle’s dive-y-est bars.

I surprised him a little by saying no, but it was no surprise at all that I didn’t because I wanted to preserve my memories. I saw no reason to go when it would be crowded, not the same little place where me and 8 of my friends could just swing and grab a table for the night. I didn’t want to feel the atmosphere of sadness, when I could remember all the good times.

Sitting in the back booth with Victoria, always trying to avoid the caved in part of the booth seat, trying to get Eric to sit there because he’s tall.

Playing pool on the kind of crappy little pool table that never had enough room around it to take a shot without hitting someone.

Christmastime last year, the night of the Santa Hat, the night that Eric threw his beer glass across the room, and no one got thrown out, absolutely nothing happened except that we sat back down and drank more.

The nights when I was there hanging out afterhours, when I would suddenly realize that it was 4am.

Even the night that Kiki practically attacked me in the bathroom stall, and I could hardly get his drunk ass off me.

All the times Reno and all the other guys would leave the Cha Cha to go the bathroom at Kincora.

And maybe best of all, sitting on the couch, looking up at my then future boyfriend, the aforementioned Alex.

It’s these little scenes, the smallest vignettes that stick, single moments frozen in time forever, that matter. I didn’t need to go have one last drink there – I’ve had plenty. I didn’t need to see it one last time – I’ve seen it more intimately than most. I didn’t need to be the last to leave before it’s gone – I’ve been the last to leave more times than you’ll ever know : ) And I didn’t need to try and capture any more memories – I have the best there’ll ever be.

What more could I need, when I know that everytime I ever think about Kincora, I’ll remember Alex’s smiling face looking down at me as I sat on that couch, and then a flood of other colorful and happy memories will wash back over me?
In a lot of ways, I wish they weren’t tearing Kincora down, but I also realize that just like every dog has his day, every bar has it’s night, and Kincora has had so many nights…I know from experience that sometimes you just can’t make any more amazing memories of a place. I was done making mine there a while ago, and that had nothing to do with the impending demise.

I’ll miss you Kincora. Just the way you were.

Finally, after over two years of working 8-10 hours by myself each and every Tuesday (and for a long while, for 8 hours alone on Sundays as well) it’s finally over. Just like Sundays were killed by Lisa suggesting that we just be closed on them, the shop will now be closed Tuesdays and we will both work on Thursdays.

I realized today that it is not so much the working alone, or the length of the day as it is being the one stuck here until closing, and being here at closing myself. Mostly because of the insistent people who show up at the last minute and practically force you to stay late to accomadate them.

No more nights getting off at 8, well after dinnertime, too late to do anything else. Nothing after 6 from here on out, and it feels good.

Ironically, today has been the slowest Tuesday in a long time, and I am planning on leaving 1.5 hours early, as I’ve only had two customers all day. At this point, who cares? I am just happy to be going home soon, and never having to be here this late again, much less on my own.

Goodbye, stupid Tuesday.