My Dad's Gift.

 When I was in the 8th grade, every one of us had to take ballroom dancing.  Classes were held one night a week.  The dance academy ball room was located in a big room over a bar.  My Dad, having done his stint as chauffeur, decided that was worth a beer down below and, having dutifully delivered me to the instructor, sallied forth below deck for a cold one.

Upstairs we plodded - you couldn't call it dancing by any stretch - around the scarred and nicked floor.    All of us were watching our feet and it wasn't until I noticed Daddy sitting  against the far wall.  He wasn't  alone; there was a stranger sitting next to him bellowing at peak volume some gibberish about WW1.  Daddy looked amused and when I happened to look up both Daddy and and the deranged man were gone.  Daddy was back shortly.

Driving home, "Daddy, who was that guy?"

"Dunno, Toots, but he thought he knew me.  You'll learn but if I'm in a room with 50 people the only crazy one will march right up to me just like he was one of my best friends."

What do you do, Daddy?"

"I'll tell you what to do - run!"

Now cut to a wonderful dive bar that had a name change from The Poop Deck to The Deck. The façade

consists of two huge tinted picture windows and the entrance door.  Few things are better entertainment  than sitting on one of the stools and watching the endless parade of half dressed people skate boarding, or bicycle  riding .  Extensive plastic surgery would be mandatory if one of them fell.

We finally got window seating for the three of us - Dee being #3 of our party.  Watching with great interest out the window,  playing our own little game of "Find Dee a wife!" where-in I point out young lovelies and Dee shoot's em' down. 

Next thing I knew I felt a pair of warm arms hugging me from behind!  I whipped around on my bar stool and there stood a woman of a certain age, beaming at me.  She said, "I just have to hug people!"  "Not me, you don't - back the eff up."  I thought and stepped a step closer

I looked frantically at Richie and Dee, but they were busy laughing at me and of no use whatsoever. My look changed from imploring to slit-eyed hostile.  Meanwhile the lady had been rattling along to me and I didn't hear a word.  Until she pointed out a man further into the room.  She confided, "That's my husband - he was diagnosed stage 4 prostatitis.  "Scam on the horizon" and slithered off to the ladies room.  When I came back  she was gone and I was glad.