January 2nd in Posso's Prompts

If you’ve ever been stuck working on a holiday, what was a memorable experience?

Since Christmas and New Years came and went, I figured this would be an appropriate beginning to a new year. This memory comes from a Thanksgiving break I was stuck working a few years ago. I was tending the bar on a quiet night before Thanksgiving, people were home visiting family and friends and whatnot and you know how it goes when you decide to visit family thinking it will be a great time until thirty minutes later you’re looking for an excuse to get ketchup at the grocery store at 11pm so you can stop at four bars on the way and take shots. Tangent aside, it was late, quiet and I was getting ready to close early when this 40 something woman, dressed up clearly to attract attention. I mean, I do that in sweats and a hoodie but i digress, she had on a crop top and a skirt and heels that made her long legs look like a jungle gym I needed to crawl up on. Now, Deena (we’re not going to use her real name cause I think that there’s a chance she could still stalk me once in awhile) was a somewhat regular, she lived in the apartment complex next to the bar. I had gotten to know about her as she would frequent the bar and drink a spotted cow and read the news about Waunakee while she would tell me about her teenage daughters and how I was more mature. (Mind you, I was 30 at the time)
Well, this quiet night got real loud all of sudden as I see that when I pour her beer that she’s clearly been drinking for a bit. She grabs my hand as I serve her and attempts to stare deep into my eyes while not going cross eyed.
“What kind of music do you like?” She asks.
Meh, I could listen to whatever, I’m trying to get out of here.
“I got something special for you.”
She runs to the jukebox and puts on some Motley Crue and decides to start doing some sort of weird strip/dance/knock bar stools over with her gyrating hips. At this point, I am really just trying to do the last load of dishes and stock the coolers and get out of there, I had enough time to race downtown before bar time and as pretty and single as Deena was, I had my heart set on someone just a bit younger.
Clearly, she had other drunk plans. She proceeded to grab my face and start to pull my mouth towards hers. I could already smell the classic combo of beer vomit and wintergreen lifesavers. As she went in to plant a big ol’ slobbery wet one I could also see her body start to revolt and the motions of someone dry heaving a demon out of their stomach. I ducked just as the puke went projectiling (new word I hope) over my head. As I tuck and rolled, I watched her body act like one of those water snakes you used to hook up to the hose outside that would just shake and spit everywhere. Well take that image and attach it to a 45 year old woman with a fake chest and clothes meant for a 21 year old and then you’ll see why I was oddly aroused and scared. After what seemed like a straight minute of ralphing, she looks at me, cheeks puffed, and goes,
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
She then almost puts me in a chokehold as she drags me with her to the womens bathroom, slams the door open and starts to vomit again. She physically makes me hold her hair as she takes my other hand and puts it on her back and pushes it up and down. The woman actually made me pat her back and hold her hair as she puked and I knew right then and there that this was not the first time she had made a man do this and I was not about to be the second husband to do so. I looked at my watch and we were now going on 35 minutes of babysitting. I decided that I could sneak away to mop up her mess, so I did. I should have known better as when I went to check on her again, her face was full on submerged in vomit toilet water. I struggled to get her to regain consciousness as I picked her up and decided that the easiest course of ending this would be to take her to her apartment. I got her to audibly tell me an apartment number and got her keys and basically fireman carried her, passed out lifeless body, into a dark apartment complex at midnight. I was really concerned that if anyone saw me I was going to talking to a sheriff or four.
I had successfully gotten her to the front door of her place when, like watching someone get stabbed with an epi-pen, she came amazingly back into full animation and started to wrestle me into her place.
I can’t do this, you’re pretty intoxicated and you’re not going to enjoy reliving this tomorrow. Believe me, I have been there.
I said it knowing how true it was. Also knowing how much I did not want to be there. I had somewhere else to be with someone else I’d rather be with. Then the tears started.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so unhappy. I’m old and have teenage kids and this isn’t what I wanted in life.” The water works were full out and on display.

This is literally the worst thing for me as someone that serves alcohol and been around it. I understand the need, I understand why people need to relieve stress and why it helps them but there’s just so many times where it obviously makes a situation worse or makes one realize that it isn’t what they need to help them in their lives. The difficult part is where I make my living and support my own egregious and bachelor extravagant lifestyle by helping people on their way to this point daily or nightly. Deena was embarrassed by this and I did not see her for close to a year after that. She apologized profusely the next time I saw her and had her tell me the story to her new fiance.