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August 01, 2004
Kelly Phillips is a Beautiful Girl
I’ve never actually met Kelly Phillips, and she has no idea who I am, but somehow she was exactly what I needed at the time.
It was Friday July 9th at about 10:00pm, on a warm summer night in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. I was in a bar, in the basement of a building, the name of which seemed to be carefully hidden from the customers. I wasn’t there for a drink, I was there to drink. A huge difference for those who understand.
Eleven hours before, I drove away from my kids. I left them in Winnipeg with their mom in their new home, half a continent from where I was heading. I had spent the last three weeks driving them out from Vancouver Island and helped them settle in their new home. We’d visited parrots. We went to Drumheller. We played “I Spy With My Little Eye” for a painful eternity while driving across Alberta and Saskatchewan. But it turned out to be sweet pain indeed.
We made a final effort as a family to make a new home for them in a city where their mom grew up. They have family and friends and are meeting new people every day. They’ll be ok. I’m still working on me.
Eleven hours is a long time to drive alone. Mile after mile of trying to convince yourself that it’s really for the best. Mile after mile of remembering your kids faces and waves as you drove away, trying for their sake not to break down in front of them. Mile after mile of saying out loud to yourself, “Hey, at least I’m not a soldier going overseas for a year or more and maybe never seeing them again.” Self deception can be a valuable skill if done properly. But then, how would you know right?
Finding yourself in a strangely large and empty hotel room after those same eleven hours leaves you feeling the only way you can. Lonely as hell and in need of….something. And maybe there you have the most important reason of all for why bars were invented.
I was there to drink.
Not just one or two.
When I went into the bar I found it to be quite full. I fought for a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. A Marca Bavaria for all you detail freaks. I looked around and saw a Lions and Eskimos game on the TV and what turned out to be some sort of Class Reunion. I assume it was a high school reunion. At first I thought it might have been nurses or something due to the larger number of girls present. But as the next hour passed, more guys started showing up. I think it had something to do with half time.
Everyone was wearing name tags and receiving a program of sorts, I assume with a list of the people in the class. The average age was late 20’s or early 30’s so I was guessing 15th year or so. I was sitting back relaxing and watching the crowd as I am trained by circumstance to do. Too many years of it. I can’t help it. I watch for the people that make groups what they are.
There was Miss Congeniality working the door. She was probably class president and librarians assistant a few years back. The “cool chicks” were there, still sitting with each other, husbands or boyfriends well trained to feel lucky to be in their presence.
Large Drunk Guy was there, of course, getting friendlier and louder with each beer. He would be a problem as they always are. (Please refer to my earlier post: Blue Moon Special for further reference on Large Drunk Guy) Of course there was Mr. I Still Have No Social Skills So I’ll Just Drink Till I Puke. He seems to have cousins everywhere. And he did. There was the geek who made well and the once proud captain of whatever sports team there was, now fat before his time, along with his cutesy little wife who seems to recoil at every touch.
But mostly there were a lot of people having a good time and seeing old friends for the first time in years, the occasional squeal of delight marking another arrival.
The mix of dress and social skills were evident, with the group still trying to get its groove. But there in the middle, was somebody a little different, somebody who everybody seemed to like and more importantly, seemed to like everybody in the room.
Kelly Phillips. (she had a name tag ok) She wasn’t dressed like the others. She was casual, Capri pants, tank top, sandals. She had some sort of small tattoo (a sun?) in between her shoulder blades and the hint of more unseen. A stud in her tongue. Her hair was in a couple on tiny pig tails. And when she smiled, it was one of those whole face smiles that lights up a room. She was just as old as the others in the room, but she had lost none of her youth.
I’d gone to the washroom to get rid of beer three and make room for beer four. As I was leaving, Mr. I’ll Drink Till I Puke lurched inside the WC and did just that. Missed me by inches (no kidding) before stepping forward into his own mess. I think I heard him fall but I was moving out fast by then, making good my escape and didn’t feel like going back to check. Bad things happen when you do that. He wasn’t my problem and I wanted it to stay that way.
“Clean up in stall two,” I called out to the bartender as I signaled for her services and requested beer four. She looked genuinely disgusted when I told her what I’d seen and so she made the owner go in with shovel and mop to clean up. I shook my head knowing all to well how he felt about his newly acquired duty.
I went back to watching the crowd and the end of the game. I was trying not to stare, but I couldn’t help but watch Kelly in the crowd. She handled Large Drunk Guy with class, smiling all the time and redirecting him and his overly friendly hands down the line. But it was her smile and laughter that had me hooked. That, I think, was what I needed.
I was feeling different than I ever had before. I felt alone and like there was some sort of spotlight of shame upon me. I was feeling sad for myself and sad for my kids. I had every intention of seeing my way through beer nine or ten or whatever number it would take to make the crying stop in my head. But I never got there.
I never got up and met Kelly Phillips. Maybe in another time or circumstance I may have gone up and said something dumb in an effort to meet her. But not that night. That night I needed to see someone be totally themselves and be happy about it. Not posing or trying to impress. Not avoiding unpleasant people but making them smile too. I needed to see something other than a room full of people like me, trying to drink enough to forget or ignore something that haunts them.
When I said that Kelly Phillips was what I needed, that is what I meant.
***Official Disclaimer if you’re Kelly***
If you ever read this I hope I haven’t embarrassed you in any way. I’m not a creep or a stalker. I hope you never have to feel so hurt and lonely inside that seeing a beautiful smile can make such a profound difference to your day. I thank you for giving me and your friends that smile.
I never got to beer six. I didn’t have to.
When I left, Large Drunk Guy was out in the hall and appeared to be yelling at a mail box. I smiled as I past, I had turned a corner.
I talk with or email my kids every day. I see them again on August 26th. I can’t wait.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at August 1, 2004 04:42 PM