Im just the Bartender's Roommate/ Superbowl Sunday

I’m Just the Bartender’s Roommate
I’m sleeping off the side effects of drinking too much vodka, when my cat Pepper Anne bounds up from the floor and peers into my puffy red eyes. She meows; nudges my face and arm in the hopes that she will receive some pets. I stroke her soft black fur with my eyes closed because I’m still unwilling to wake up, but soon my dreams escape me and I am fully conscious. I roll over, scan my cell phone for the hour and groan when I realize it’s already twelve-thirty. Not only is it twelve-thirty but its Super Bowl Sunday, I struggle to even recall who is playing today; not that it really even matters to me. My roommate staggers into the room, looking exactly like I feel. ,”Hey pal, how ya feeling?,” she asks in a scratchy voice. “Like shit,” is all I can muster up. “I know, I’ve definitely had better days,” she chuckles ,” and I don’t really want to work today but it is Super Bowl and I’ve got a hunch that it may be busy.” Still curled under the covers, I half sit up and squint in her direction. “Well I was going to go watch the game at Tyler’s but I wouldn’t mind coming in and keeping you company instead.” Her eyes brighten, “Really? Oh I wish you would, I don’t want to be around all the locals by myself, you know how they can be.” “Oh I know only too well,” I manage a smile, throw back the covers and swing my feet onto the floor,” it’s decided then, I’ll go hang out with you at the bar.”
Eight glasses of water, a shower and a breakfast burrito later, we are bouncing along the two lane ocean road on the way to the bar. I decide that a glass of red wine accompanied with a glass of sparkling water would certainly lift my spirits and express my idea to Michelle. ,” Perfect!” she exclaims, “I just opened a Pinot Noir that you will absolutely love!” I’m already thinking that this could be a long day. As we pull into the parking lot, I take note that there are several parked cars outside, more than usual, and I’m hoping the people residing in the bar are decent company. We stroll into the building and while my eyes adjust to the dim lighting I am already scoping out the scenario. At the moment, there is only one individual at the bar, and from behind, all that I can conclude is that he is a balding, fat man with levi jeans and a dirty tee shirt. So much for decent company I mutter under my breath. I turn to find Michelle but she has already sprinted up the stairs to clock in.
Reluctantly I walk over to the bar and take a seat as far away from man as I possibly can. Apparently this isn’t far enough because he turns to me and says hello. Immediately I am appalled and intrigued all at once. At first all I can look at is his nose, it’s bulbous, red and pock marked, but even more noticeable than that is its sheer size. It is perhaps the largest snout I have ever seen. A set of thick gold rimmed glasses cover up his glassy bug eyes and I know in an instant he has had a lifelong relationship with alcohol. His hands are large and callused with black scum underneath each fingernail and when he talks I can see his black, rotting teeth. “Hullo there my dear, Sampson is the name, are you here to watch the game too?” I cringe and glance around for my roommate, where the hell is she? Finally, I spit out, “Michelle is my roommate and I am here to keep her company and watch the game.”
After what feels like ten years later Michelle comes running down the stairs and into the bar. Relief washes over me and I ask her for the amazing glass of Pinot. Grinning, she pours me a glass, nearly to the brim before fixing her attention to Sampson. “Well hey Sampson, “she says politely in her sweet soprano voice,” here to watch the game with us?” Sampson takes a long drink of beer, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “You bet I am, I am so lucky to be watching the game with such beautiful women in my company.” I vomit a little in my mouth and cast Michelle a look that says Who the fuck is this guy? She walks over and whispers,” He is a local and a personal friend of the owner, so the staff is supposed to be nice to him.” I shrug it off; at least I have a glass a wine.
I am thoroughly enjoying my glass of wine when I hear quite a commotion coming from the entrance. I crane my head in that direction only to notice a man in his mid-fifties come barreling through the door heading right for Sampson, all the while yelling something incomprehensible. “Howdy partner! Ready for the game?” is what he finally says when he gets close enough. Immediately Sampson and the stranger fall deep into conversation and for a split second I am happy. Unfortunately, a split second isn’t long enough, because in the next moment this overzealous stranger is asking Michelle for a glass of Pinot Noir. I can feel my anger rising because I know this is the last bottle of my favorite wine and this ass hole is going to gulp it down like bad tasting medicine, just to get drunk.
I manage to make it through the first half of the game with only several rude and inappropriate comments flung in my direction and I consider myself lucky thus far. I notice in the reflection of the wine cooler that several other guests have come into the bar and are sitting on the tables directly behind me. I am grateful than I am not the only one who has to put up with the never ending pointless chatter from Sampson and his friend. I notice that Sampson has asked Michelle for a bottle of red wine while he is still busy finishing his beer. Michelle opens the wine, pours Sampson and his friend a glass before looking my direction, “Another glass of wine Sugar?” she asks me. Sampson interjects, “Of course she will have another glass!” Quick as lightening, but clumsy as a toddler Sampson swoops up my glass and manages to pour me a glass of wine. Which I figure is the least he can do for being so annoying. Minutes go by, the game goes on and I hear Sampson request another bottle of wine, this time I politely decline his offering and opt for the sparkling water instead.
“It’s time to break the seal,” I say jokingly to Michelle as I head toward the lavatory. When I return to my seat I quickly realize the Sampson and stranger/ friend have gotten completely out of control. The stranger is yelling out Anti-Semitic slurs, in English, German and French while Sampson plays instigator. At first, I try to ignore it, but their conversation is steadily increasing in volume and pretty soon everyone in the entire bar is aware of their conversation. A man standing behind me attempts to tell the stranger that he is ridiculous bastard and has no right to slander a race or religion in a public place, to which the stranger responds, “Free Speech Bitch.” The man, along with several other customers leaves the bar at once and immediately my eyes flash across the room to my roommate who is wearing a look of utter shock and disgust. Sampson and the Stranger continue along in this matter until at last I cannot take it anymore.
I swing around on my barstool, hop off and walk a few feet so I can stand squarely in front of these two large, drunk men. “Excuse me sirs, I know I’m just the bartenders roommate, but I came here to have a good time and watch the game. Now I don’t really care what your religious, political or moral views are, nor are they my business, furthermore they should not be discussed in a place such as this. Again I understand your right to “free speech” but I believe that one loses that right if it infringes on another’s safety and wellbeing, which sir you have done more than once in the last several minutes. So gentlemen, if you’ve come to watch the game, than by all means, watch the game, but if you’ve come here to get drunk and offend people I’m afraid you have chosen the wrong bar.” Smiling sweetly I turn on my heels and hop back on my barstool, happy for the brief silence that follows my speech. The silence is brief and all too soon I realize it is merely the calm before the storm. The stranger is drunk, enraged and a racist, which is never a good combination, within minutes he is escorted out, I smirk happily into my wine and return to the game. Now if only Sampson would leave….