I was sitting on the sidewalk in Times Square yesterday at 6:50 AM because I was waiting in line for an audition. Sure I was watching men pile crap into a garbage truck, I could smell the stench of someone who was probably sleeping in that exact spot a few hours before and the air was a little chilly, but it was all better than being at work. I was just two short blocks away from The Houlihan’s that I spent so many happy hours at so I want to tell a story of those days.
We used to have this bartender named Evy. She was grumpy, mean, a habitual liar and not a very nice person. I always managed to stay on her good side because if you didn’t, she would flat out refuse to make your drinks. You could be so in the weeds and then you finally run over to the bar to pick up your ten million pina coladas and they wouldn’t be there. And Evy would say something like, “Oh I must have been changing the printer paper when you placed your order. Sorry.” Yeah, she was that kind of person. I quickly learned to kiss her ass in order to make my life easier. We worked together for a long time and after a while all of her wild and fanciful stories seemed to be a little too wild and fanciful. It took me and the rest of my co-workers a long time to realize that she was making up shit left and right. One day she came into work with her head half shaved in this kind of mid-90’s asymmetrical bob deal. It was not like her to have a hair cut like that so we all asked her what made her decide to go so radically different. She had an answer:
Well, I went to Las Vegas this weekend just because I thought it would be fun. So I was there with a friend of mine and we were at a bar. The bartender was totally ignoring us and I really wanted a drink so I told him that I was getting mad and I went off in him. The man next to us, turned to me and said, “You are the meanest most horrible vile person I have ever seen in my entire life. And I want you to be in my movie. So he cast me as a gang member with a bad attitude and he wanted me to cut my hair this way. So I did. Because I’m gonna be in a movie. Me! And I’m not even an actor! Isn’t that crazy?
It was at this point that we all started to realize that Evy might have a wee case of the pathological liar syndrome. Of course the movie deal fell through. Because it never happened to begin with. Her stories were always big. Like the time she went to a Knicks game and ended up in the VIP seats “just because” or when she was going to go to Paris next week “for the fun of it” but then it didn’t happen because something else came up. If she was a Facebook friend, her status would always be like, “OMG, just because I turned down Prince William’s proposal now he’s gonna marry that skank Kate Middleton” or “I ♥ scratch off lottery tickets. Just one $500! Again.”
I don’t know whatever happened to Evy. I can”t even remember if she left Houlihan’s first or if I did. It was impossible to be her friend because you never knew what her real story was. All I knew to do was listen to her tales and nod enthusiastically so that when I needed something from the bar, she would just make it. Life was simple then. Good luck, Evy, wherever you are. To hear her tell it, she probably had plastic surgery, changed her name and got racial reassignment and is now living in the White House as our first African-American first lady.