Inspired by a Friend in a Boston Bar

28 12 2013

(Oddly, I have two friends visiting Boston right now.  Both were in bars today, but for different reasons.  One of them inspired a Facebook comment, which then turned into what follows.)

So a friend and former co-worker from Austin went to New England with her husband for Christmas.  As far as I know, they had a great time but ran into a problem today when they were running late to the airport for the trip back to Texas.  The quick synopsis is that they missed their flight and now have to wait until the next available in the morning.

With plenty of time to kill, they took a train from the airport to what was hopefully the nearest bar.  And, yes, they hauled all their luggage with them.  A friend of theirs from Boston offered to meet them at the bar, and they said that they would be easy to spot because they had all their luggage there with them.

So my little flippant comment on this Facebook status update was “That’s how everyone should be at bars, so you know who comes with a lot of baggage. (Not saying you do, E, just kind of thinking to myself…)”

But imagine that.  How easy would it be to spot potential trouble at a bar?  Just count the bags.

To extrapolate, imagine a guy manning the door at a bar (even if there is no cover charge).  To enter, all you have to do is login to Facebook on his handy laptop (or tablet, for those of you into that kind of thing).  The doorman would peruse your page, looking for profile photos with someone obviously cropped out.  He would check your relationship status, mainly looking for “it’s complicated”.  He would look to see if you “liked” Zoosk, and if you are a fan of any Kardashian profile.

“Here are your bags”, he would say.  The dicier you appear, the more bags you get.  But, along with that, the quality of the bags will also be a clue to other patrons.

Are they Prada?  If you’re a $30,000/year millionaire, you might be able to fight through it.  Unless it is a Prada combo of purse, carry-on, rolling luggage, and old school suitcase.

Is it a Marlboro duffel bag?  You know, the kind that comes with redeeming those now defunct Marlboro miles?  Well then hang on for health care bills.

Is it a doctor’s bag?  If so, that’s not fair because that SOB would rule the night.

And if you were able to enter empty handed?  Don’t worry.  Depending on how the night goes, the doorman is also authorized to hand out bags as parting gifts.

What a wonderful world it would be.

 

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