The Sound of Silence

May 14, 2025

There is nothing more deafening than the sounds of a closed bar. Thinking back to all the years I was the last person standing every night, it boggles the mind I was often left all by myself to shutter the joint and prepare it for another day. All alone, thousands of dollars in hand in a little watering hole nestled between a neighborhood and a major highway. Back then, I didn't think too much of it, but I will admit, there were nights where it was certainly in the back of my mind.

Sitting alone at the bar counting the loot. A stiff drink in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. Just two hours prior the band was playing too loud, the waitresses were screaming at me because the drinks were taking too long to come out. Customers who had way too much fun pleading for just one more libation, and then storming out in a huff when I didn't oblige. The bell in the kitchen being rung over and over again because the food was ready and under the heat lamps and nobody was coming to get it.

"Get this food the fuck out of here!" The cook would scream. "And where the hell is my Corona? It's almost quitting time! Andale! Andale!"

Then, just like that, it was over. The last customer was ushered out the door. The band packed up and hauling down the road to spend their purse at the one bar crazy enough to stay open until 3am. The cooks had cleaned the kitchen and were off to their wives and 15 children; eager and ready to make some more. The waitresses were counting their bounty in the first booth, drinking a cold glass of wine to ease the pain of another day of being on their feet for 12 hours. Up and down the basement stairs was my job, refilling all the beer, wine and booze consumed that night, waiting for the waitresses to cash in their tips so I could close out the register. And then, they were gone. Just me, all by my lonesome.

The doors were locked, I was hunkered down. I quick shot of whiskey, and then my beloved vodka and soda. A couple of smokes to ease in the end of my long day. I count the money. A hundred smackers, shit, I thought I did better than that. Fucking waitresses made $300 each! Now let's see the final take...The boss made a cool 10 grand. Son of a bitch. I hate making other people rich! But I loved it, it was a living. I couldn't think of another way to make money, this was my destiny.

Then the boiler kicks on, the air in the pipes make a loud banging noise that sounds like somebody is coming up from the basement. Shit, that's creepy! Did we get everybody out of here tonight, or is somebody I cut off earlier ready to bash my head in with a pipe when I go downstairs to put the Bossman's take into the safe? The ice machine then drops a new batch making me jump from my seat. It's just the ice, Raymond, settle down. Then I hear voices...it's a group of cut off drunks from the drinking hole down the road.

They bang on the door, "We know you're in there Ray! Come on, just one more for the road!" I sit still, no movement, no sound, eventually, they move on.

Finally, I am done. The last sip of my drink and the last drag of my cigarette signals the end of another day. I listen closely, the sound of silence. A peaceful end to a hectic day. The clock above my head clicks the time away, another batch of ice drops and the boiler is still banging away. A deep breath, with the last of the day's garbage in hand, I lock the door and make my way to the dumpster. I look over my shoulders making sure nobody is lurking around. But it is quiet, the coast is clear. The large and mighty oak tree in the parking lot watches over me as I get into my car and make my way back home.

Until tomorrow. The sounds of a closed bar are deafening. Now to the soothing sounds of sports talk radio to guide me home.

Shhhhh! Did you hear that noise?