Frasier Crane stood by the wall, sipping a soda water. He could smell him before he saw him. He reeked of some unidentifiable harsh liquor, cigarettes, and enough cologne to make the eyes water – even from several feet away.
There's no doubt he was a complete mess – unshaven, one side of his wrinkled shirt tumbling from his belt. And, for some unfathomable reason, he was barefoot.
Even with all that, the man was undeniably handsome. Tall, slim, with an athletic build, and the kind of full, wavy hair Frasier would have given his left arm to have on his own head. Worse than that, he just seemed to effortlessly exude masculinity.
Frasier couldn't help but notice the loose and confident way the man moved – even drunk. Like he owned the joint, which, after all, he did.
Frasier had been on edge ever since Diane came to him with a problem – her ex-boyfriend, Sam Malone, was on the hooch again. Being Diane, she considered this her own problem as well.
Eventually, he became concerned that she would go behind his back and see Sam on the sly. So he agreed to talk with him – at least this way he could have some control of the situation.
Plus, he was rabidly curious. Who was this man that had sent Diane to a sanitarium with a nervous breakdown?
Now he knew. Sort of. He realized he was seeing Sam at his worst - and yet there was still something magnetic about him.
Frasier glanced at his watch. She would be here any moment now.
He watched Sam stumble around the bar – on the other side, he was arguing with the old man, Coach. It was Coach that had asked her to come back to Cheers to try and save Sam from himself.
"You what?" he heard Sam say – and watched him grab Coach by his clip-on tie, which came off in his grasp. Well, he had to hand it to this motley crew – they were amusing.
Frasier moved closer to the bar and stood next to the regulars. No one glanced his way – they were all too fixated on what was happening on the other side of the room.
"Coach, I don't want to see Diane Chambers!" he heard Sam whine like an errant toddler.
"Well, you're going to have to see her, because she's on her way over!" Coach said – then the man pulled off his own tie and threw it on the ground.
Frasier would have laughed if he didn't think it would draw him unwanted attention.
He heard the short, curly-haired waitress saying something – saw her looking with horror out of the window. Diane had mentioned that the other waitress obsessively nursed an abnormal hatred for her – he watched as the waitress gasped, cringed, and pointed at the door.
There was Diane - a vision in red. Her heart-shaped face and halo of golden hair were perfection.
Frasier had the uneasy sensation that she had put extra attention into her appearance today.
He leaned slightly to the left so he could get a better view.
She stood queen-like at the top of the steps. She and Sam stared at each for what seemed an eternity.
Right then, if he was honest with himself, he knew there was still something between them. He just wasn't sure what. He hadn't expected them to look at each other like that.
He had thought Diane would cast him a furtive glance upon her entry – acknowledging the secret they shared - but she didn't. Her focus was entirely on Sam - and his was on her. Something electric and strange passed through the air.
Frasier felt completely invisible. He wondered if he left the bar if she would even notice.
If he was smart, that's what he should do right now.
And yet he couldn't – because he was deeply in love.
He heard Sam and Diane exchange words. He heard Sam defend his drinking – textbook alcoholic denial.
And then he witnessed something extraordinary – the two began to ping pong insults back and forth. He had never seen Diane like this – didn't even know she had it in her.
They were actually arguing over who had broken up with who.
Frasier had the uneasy feeling that he had stepped into a debate that had gone on for thousands of years before his arrival - and would drag on long after he'd left the scene.
Why on earth had these two ever gotten together to begin with?
Unfortunately, deep down, he knew the answer to that question. There was no denying it now. The woman with whom he'd spent countless hours lost in the deepest discussions - whether it was man's inhumanity to man, the inevitability of war, the existence or non-existence of God, Buddhist versus Jain principles, and on and on - would have had nothing in common with this handsome drunk stumbling around the bar. It had to be sexual. He could see it, feel it.
He and Diane had just started sleeping together - their first night had been right after she left the sanitarium. He'd thought they'd connected well in that way.
But he suddenly felt queasy with insecurity.
"Sam, please," he heard Diane say. "I didn't come here to fight with you, I came here to help."
Could have fooled me, Frasier thought.
Diane had of course mentioned that the two didn't get along - what she'd failed to mention was that she got off on them not getting along.
"Well, I've never been happier in my entire life," Sam said, obviously meaning the complete opposite. "What are you going to do? Help me out of all my happiness? You're the one person who could do it."
If she was the one person who could help him out of his happiness, Frasier thought, she's the one person who could help him back into it too.
He felt a stab of jealousy so intense his chest ached.
Now Diane was finally getting to the point – that she wanted Sam to talk with her "friend."
Frasier's ears perked up. He was more determined than ever to talk to Sam. He simply had to get to the bottom of what it was about this man that drew the woman he loved so inexorably to him.
Of course, he would sooner be eaten alive by red ants than admit this was most of his motive for wanting to counsel Sam.
Now the curly-haired waitress announced to everyone that Diane had been in a "home for the silly." Frasier wanted to smack her.
Then Sam was back on Frasier's side of the bar. He slumped down and burst into peals of laughter.
"I've had women get depressed when they left me, but I've never had one that went-" and then he put his fingers to his lips and made babbling noises.
Frasier kept his face inscrutable, but he had the urge to chuckle. Damn him, he was not only handsome – but funny.
He remembered Diane's words at Goldenbrook – that Sam had an "almost irresistible charm" about him – and that Frasier might end up liking him more than he liked Diane.
Suddenly, he understood all too well what she was saying. Frasier had the most inscrutable awareness that he wanted to hang out with Sam - just hang out with him, and not even discuss Diane.
"Charm like yours is a hard thing to live without, all right," he heard Diane retort – and he was immediately annoyed with her hypocrisy. Apparently it was hard to live without, or she wouldn't have been in Goldenbrook.
"It had nothing to do with you, Sam," he heard her say.
Frasier felt his stomach flop. So Diane Chambers was capable of that kind of lie. What else was she capable of?
He watched as Coach, the curly-haired waitress, and even the other alcoholics in the bar all encouraged Sam to get help. But it didn't seem like it was going to work. Perhaps he would never get to talk to him – but that was probably for the best.
At this point, his gut instinct was urging him to spirit Diane out of the bar – and preferably out of Boston.
"Okay, fine, Sam, drink all you want," he heard Diane say. "But I know the real reason you're doing it. You're afraid I'm right about you and the doctor. One thing in the world you can't stand is admitting that I'm right about anything."
"Wrong again!" Sam countered, proving Diane's point.
Holy moly. These two were a pair! Frasier didn't know what he was getting himself into – or rather, he knew. Damned if he didn't know. This was a slow motion disaster. And he stood paralyzed, unable to walk away from it.
"You're scared, Sam," he heard Diane say.
He watched as Sam relaxed his grip his drink and set it on the bar - and then he knew it would happen. Sam would agree to meet with him.
He realized the two were in a perpetual war of wills – and Sam couldn't admit that Diane was right. He would rather stop drinking than admit she was right.
His only hope now was to be a friend to Sam – Diane would surely appreciate that, and see Frasier for the good, evolved man that he was.
Keep your enemies close.
"Tell him to drop by, I'll try to fit him in between dames," Sam said. Frasier recognized it as a transparent attempt to shore up his badly damaged self-esteem.
Obviously, this man's main validation in life came from female attention. Frasier guessed he had mother issues - probable abandonment.
"Why don't you say hello to him right now," he heard Diane say.
Frasier knew that was his cue. He stood up and stuck out his hand.
"Hello, Sam," he heard himself say.
He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded.