Mr. and Mrs. Fenton

Truthfully, it wasn't even necessary to partake of John Barleycorn at all. One could eschew alcohol altogether at these luncheons and just drink ice water or tea. The only problem with doing that though was waiters and waitress' tended to separate those who drank no alcohol and seat them at a special table. This table for their non imbibing clientel was right at the front door and was directly across from the table of patrons who were known to never leave tips for the hired help who placed food and drinks on the table.

Being seated at either table meant several endless hours of nibbling on bread sticks, being totally ignored by all employees except busboys (who moved quickly from table to table with fresh baskets of breadsticks) and watching people even more solemn and uninteresting than yourself, doodling on paper napkins and looking at their wristwatches.

Meanwhile, back at my table near the bar, spirits flowed and conviviality reigned. The conversation was witty and varied and each of us worked very hard to impress the others that we were, not only extremely intelligent, but possessed of huge chunks of knowledge about 'most every subject under the sun. Often we found ourselves trying to share these tidbits simultaniously. At such times, the noise level would build until it was difficult to be entirely sure if your little gems of wit were being clearly understood by the chap across the table from you.

I remember it was one such moment when I was first made aware of Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. I had just lost a five dollar bill after having guessed wrong and picked the rhino as being heavier than either the hippo or the pigmy elephant. In my, by then besotted condition, I felt this new piece of trivia was well worth five dollars.

:See that old couple at the bar?" asked a co-worker. I looked over to my right and spotted an old couple who must have been in their late eighties. "That's Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. They've got this game they play with each other. Watch what happens when one of them goes to the restroom. Funniest thing you ever saw."

A few minutes went by and Mr. Fenton stood and walked toward the restroom. The door had barely closed behind him when the old lady stood and gestured frantically for the bartender. He picked up what must have been a premixed drink and brought it to her end of the bar. With a quick glance at the men's room door, Mrs Fenton raised the glass to her lips, tilted her head back and chug a lugged the whole damn glass. The bartender picked up the glass, put it under the bar and wiped the bar surface clean just as the men's room door opened and Mr. Fenton walked back to sit next to his wife.

I nudged the guy who had drawn my attention to this little charade. "That's the darnest thing I ever saw" I said. "What's the deal? Is she a secret lush or what?" My friend just grinned and said "Keep watching. There's more". I turned back to the bar in time to see Mrs. Fenton stand up and walk to the women's restroom. Sure enough, the door had barely closed behind her when the old man stood and began to wave his arm to get the bartender's attention. As had happened with the wife, the bartender took a premixed drink from the fridge and brought it to Mr. Fenton. As quick as a lizard snapping at a fly, the old man upended the drink and was wiping his mouth with a napkin while the bartender wiped the bar in front of him.

I turned back to my friend in shock. "They're both doing it" I sputtered. "Are they both alcoholics?" I asked. "I don't think so" my friend replied. "They never have but the one drink". As I watched, both the old man and woman stood and the man paid their tab with a tip large enough to cover the second drink he'd had. When he turned and began walking toward the door, his wife took a bill from her purse and left in to pay for her second drink. Walking quickly, she caught up to her husband before he reached the front door.

I was still looking at the front door when my friend interrupted my thoughts. "They come in here about twice a week. They do the same thing every time. Best I can figure, that's their little game they play."

I ain't rightly sure if this story has a moral. I do know it's a true one. Over the next few months, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Fenton play out their 'game' another five or six times. I often wondered what kind of games they played when they were younger.

Loyal