Turf Wars at Bars: THE Pressing Issue of Our Time

I just came back from 90 West, a bar approximately 450 feet from my apartment. Why do I live 450 feet from a bar you may ask? Exactly.

But I did hear something that astounded me when I was at the bar a few minutes ago. First off, this bar is small and quaint, but has a very loyal following. It's kind of like the Moe's from The Simpsons. Same 8 people there. Same smell of skunked beer and arm pit. Oh, and this one dude, Chris (complete Type A personality, firm handshake, loud, probably obnoxious, my guess works in sales or retails douche bags as a side project) goes, "this beer tastes like ass." Ha Ha...how does that dude know what ass tastes like?* Probably the same guy who says, "lick my balls, faggot!" Contradiction of terms, possibly?

Anywho, so the female bartender (who'd I'd definitely bone) starts talking about why they don't serve hard liquor. Her theory was that they don't serve hard alcohol because it would start turf wars between bars. Basically, liquor gets you sicker. And if someone such as myself who is new to the bar shows up after a rowdy 90 West crowd is 8 shots-a-patron deep, I'd get my ass kicked.

Apparently, territory and turf isn't specific to just gangs out here. I don't get that. If the bartender's theory has any truth to it, I think it speaks to a greater truth about ourselves. A truth that is full of individualism. A truth that leads to ego, and eventually, to comments like, "this beer tastes like ass."

But there is another truth out there I think. A truth about our desire to help. A desire to see the parts work together for a greater whole. Just as negative begets negative, I believe the opposite is certainly true. I know the opposite is true in fact. Everytime somebody tells me they read this thing, I'm inspired more and more. We're designed to work and live and play and yes, fornicate, together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6J3OD4Z0UQ

*it tastes like maple syrup

The Running Scene and Scenes in General

Skinny jogging pants, Nike and Adidas hats, anorexic men, band-aided nips, the occasional breath-right nasal strip, maybe some ipods, and then the beer garden. This is a generalization of the common scene you'll see after a 5K, 10K, half-marathon, or God-forgive, a 26.2 mile race. OH, and I forgot bagels. Lots of bagels.

The chatter: "could've gone faster, but i've been at pretty high mileage for the past month" or "my knee's been bothering me, or I would've been up there."

Am I generalizing? Yes. Stereotyping? Yes. But stereotypes persist for a reason. Scenes are scenes are scenes. How many coffee shops have you driven by where gaggles of cyclists are hanging out sipping on a cup of joe and chattering about their ride? Or networking events for tech, business, or entertainment, where people thumb each other while getting loaded on over-priced mixed drinks, imported beer, and ego.

And I understand the importance of these events. And I understand the postive nature that scenes can have. Belonging is important, right brothers of Sigma Chi?

My point in writing on this particular topic is that we can all be better networkers, fraternity brothers, runners, if we acknowledge the scene we walk into. Scenes somehow tend to provoke competition and subsequently, self-importance. We try to prove things to others through talk. In the words of many, talk is cheap.

In my perspective, when I walk into scenes I try not to take them too seriously. And subsequently, I feel I am at my best. Looser, more honest, more fun, more effective. "Humble Pie" in the words of the New England Patriots, and the proof is in the pudding. I just try to remember, as scenes are scenes are scenes, my work is my work is my work.

Wasting Time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srnxJ6YxrYQ

Justin