That's why the lady is a tramp

Many years ago when I was dumb and stupid, before I was older and stupid, I dated a guy who was a an alcoholic. And a drug addict. And unemployed because he was a poet. Oh yeah, baby, could I pick 'em!

Well, we dated off and on for awhile. We usually went to a nice bar that was down the street from this Sam's house. It was a nice bar actually, and I got to know the owner as well. They had great food, a good jukebox and free pool tables. It was a block away so we could walk and both of us could drink and I wasn't always stuck being the DD. This bar was located about 20 minutes from MY house, but it was easy to get to if I wanted.

The owner usually was bar tending every night and he knew Sam and grew to know me, of course.

One day I decided I didn't want to see Sam anymore and I broke it off. I wanted to date someone else and I was tired of his drunken, alcoholic behaviors. Sam, of course, focused on the fact that I wanted to date other people rather than he was in fact an unemployed, drug addict alcoholic. It was ugly but it was what it was. So that night around 2 am my phone rang. It was during the week and I had to go to work the next morning. But nevertheless my phone rings at 2 am.

I was shocked when on the other end of the phone was the bar owner. He asked me if I could please come and get Sam. I told him we broke up and the bar owner said he knew that, everyone in the bar knew it and he would explain in detail when I got there. He said if I didn't get Sam he was going to call the police and have him arrested. Either that or a group of guys were going to beat the ever loving shit outta him. Oh boy.

I drive the 20 minutes to the bar and walk in, still wearing my flannel pj pants and a t-shirt, and hear the sound of Frank Sinatra singing "That's why the lady is a tramp." And Sam is standing on the middle of one of the pool tables, singing into a pool cue at full volume.

Apparently, Sam, being heartbroken over our break up, went to the bar and proceeded to get smashed. And fed the jukebox. And played that SAME Sinatra tune over and over and over. 22 times in a row. The bar owner unplugged the jukebox but Sam would wait until he was busy waiting on customers and run back over and plug it back in. And it would start back up with the Sinatra song.

I'm sorry, but I so had the giggles.

The bar owner helps me man handle him off the bar and Sam does leave with me. He walks home while I drive- of course he doesn't want to get into the car with the treacherous tramp. I drive along side him, and he SINGS the infamous Sinatra tune at the top of his lungs all the way down the street. I finally persuade him into his house, hide his car keys and his shoes. Then I leave.

When I get home, my answering machine is blinking that I have 6 missed messages. It was Sam singing "Lady is a Tramp" over and over and over again.

I can't believe I'm still a Sinatra fan. But every time I hear that song, I have to laugh.

The trampy lady,
Maggie