SHESHOBAR

SHESHOBAR. SHEll-SHOcked Beyond All Recognition. In the space of just 24 hours my beloved Duke Blue Devils lost two NCAA National Championship games in basketball. That's right; not one, but two. Both the men's and the women's teams bit the dust. I was really bummed out. It took me the better part of Tuesday just to be able to focus on my computer screen By 400 PM I found I was not only getting nothing accomplished, but I was beginning to develop a case of "Blue Hives". I needed something. And I needed it fast. So I called my friend Jimbo. "Meet me after work at the usual spot in the Inner Harbor. I need to drown my sorrows after last night." "Oh. The Duke thing. Poor bastard. I bet it hurts real bad." "Thanks for your sympathy. I feel a whole lot better now." "That's what I'm here for, buddy. See ya at 600." I couldn't stand it any longer. I decided to write off the rest of the day as a "mental health break" and head out to Baltimore early. I arrived by 5:30. The place was pretty empty. Sat down at our favorite table by the patio door. The only one with real chairs, not those uncomfortable stools. I barely sat down when Kristin sauntered over. "Hi! How are you today?" she purred. I found myself feeling a little better already. "I'm OK, I guess. Just a little shell-shocked after those miserable Duke losses the last few days." "I know. It was awful. I worked Sunday and Monday nights. The people were the worst. Everyone in the place was rooting for Purdue and UConn. They were so obnoxious. Do you know, one of the guys poured beer down my shorts after I told him I was a Dukie!" "You're a Dukie? No kidding. That's fantastic! I don't know why everyone always wants to see Duke lose." "I think it's because they secretly resent us. Take those refs. Could you believe that unbelievably lousy officiating? It was the worst I've ever seen!" There were actual tears of rage welling up in Kristin's eyes. "Yeah. Right on. EVERY call went against Duke in both games. Particularly at the crucial points of the game. I mean, they were double and triple teaming VanGorp and Brand, hacking them to death under the basket, but they never called a single foul! It's kind of hard to score when you are getting your head and body smashed in continuously!" "You know," said Kristin, leaning over close now, her long blond hair brushing my shoulder, "I think you would feel better with a nice, cold 22 ounce bottle of Coors. We have a special - only $3.25." "Bring it on, Kristin. And throw in a plate of ten hot wings. I'm not waiting for Jimbo." "Be right back, honey," she purred again. I was beginning to forget the actual reason I was there. I was also wondering where Jimbo was. "Here yo go, sweetie, nice cold beer. Your wings will be out in a jiffy. Mind if I join you?" "Not at all. I could use the company." She pulled up a chair close to mine. I noticed she had a cute little tatoo on the back of her left shoulder. I had not noticed it before. "You've got a Duke Blue Devil tatooed on your shoulder! It's so cute!" "Thanks," cooed Kristin, moving her chair even closer. There were genuine tears of concern in her eyes now. "I hope you won't let those miserable games ruin your night tonight, hon. Have some more beer while I pick up your wings...be back in a flash." It was 6:30 now. No Jimbo yet, and I was beginning to hope that he had gotten tied up in one of those Beltway traffic jams from Hell. No more than a minute had passed and Kristin returned with a plate of 20 wings. "Wow! That was fast. This looks like a lot of wings!" "Yes. I asked the manager to throw in 10 free wings so you would feel better." "That's mighty nice of you guys. Thanks." "It's the least I can do. Is there anything else I can bring you, dear? I gotta see what they want at that table there, but I'll be right back." "I could use another Coors." I was feeling pretty good now. The anguished faces of Avery and Erickson were fading from my mind very quickly. All I could see clearly now were the piercing blue eyes that Kristin flashed at me under those flowing, blond tresses. "Be right back with your beer, honey," she said, positively oozing compassion and charm. She returned in an instant, an ice cold beverage in tow. Some three hours later, an order of curly fries, another plate of wings richer, and plenty of beverage "specials," still without an appearance from Jimbo, I decided to hang it up for the evening. The bill was $55.00. I didn't care. I felt refreshed, as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Another season of Duke basketball was behind me. I had survived 1999 and I was ready for next year. Before I left I headed for "Mr. Crapper's Room." As I was attending to business, I tuned in on a conversation between some guy at the sink and an invisible voice in the can. "Did you get a load of that Kristin chic? She was s-o s-e-x-y. And those baby blue eyes. And that green tatoo. Wasn't that so cool?" "Yeah," said the voice, "when I saw that Michigan State thing on her shoulder I nearly died and went to heaven." "And the free shrimp. Can you believe that? Where has that ever happened before?" "I know, dude. I'm going to tell all my friends about this place. I'm a fan for life." As I passed the entrance I noticed the sign: "Manager's March Madness Special. Tell us your hard luck story and get a free appetizer." Kristin was hugging some guy who was wearing a Southwest Missouri State jacket. I kept walking. There will be a next time...