Asheville is a beer town, and I knew before we ever thought about having kids that when the time came, I’d end up in a bar during the pregnancy (and in the past week, I’ve found myself in two different bars. Asheville wasn’t named Beer City – yet again – last month because we’re a dry town.) Today we found ourselves in a newer bar in town, to celebrate a belated national doughnut day, a friend’s birthday and to say goodbye to a co-worker who is moving back to NYC after the
bloodbath layoffs a week ago.
This place checked IDs as soon as we walked in, and then tried to get me to order a beer. I wasn’t wearing a loose flowy shirt like I usually do, and it’s obvious that I wasn’t there to drink. Kenny and I just looked at each other, both wondering what the bartender was thinking. (Obviously she was a little clueless.) She asked me twice before finally accepting my “no, thanks.” I’ve even become accustomed to carrying my water bottle with me – into bars – in case they don’t have something I can drink and I don’t want to drink their tap water (and sometimes bartenders are slow to keep the water coming.)
I think one of these days, I will have to be the one ordering a round of drinks for everyone. Just for fun. And I’ll see if anyone stops me. 🙂