Chapter 15: First Time In New York

October 1999

New York was a lot different from what I was expecting. It was much more noisy then they were selling it, rent was always high, and there were a lot of rude students in my classes.

One day I was leaving class when my friend, Duncan, walked up to me.

"Oliver! Hey!" We high-fived. "How's it going?"

"Doing okay. What's going on with you?"

"There's a big party going on at one of the frat houses tonight. Getting trashed and whatnot. You going?"

"Not really sure. I've got a Econ test coming up. Gotta study"

"C'mon, bro. Two single guys at a frat party with a bunch of drunk chicks most likely gonna be there? It's gonna be legendary!"

I laughed. "Does anyone use the word legendary anymore?"

That night I abandoned studying to go to the party with Duncan. It was just as insane as I expected. The bass on the music was so loud, it felt like there was an earthquake going on. I think I saw someone jump off the house's balcony into a pool.

"Shit. I can't believe how wasted people get at these parties."

"Hey, as long as the professors don't crash this party, then drinking isn't gonna hurt anyone."

We finally found a place to sit down among the chaos. Duncan managed to snag us a few beers and we cracked them open.

"I swear, this town is gonna fuck me up if I end up on Wall Street." I said.

"Oh, really?" Said Duncan. "If you hate it so much, then why are you an Econ student?"

"Not sure. Just using it as a temporary path until I find something that I'm good at."

I then saw another bottle of beer on the table. A different brand. I grabbed it, and opened that.

"What're you doing, brother?" He asked.

"Wondering what these two would taste like together." And with that, I took both beers in my hands, and chugged them back.

I only remember certain fuzzy memories at that party that night after the drinks. Things that make me always say the phase "what happens in Vegas... You know" whenever someone asks me about that night. What I do remember the most clear is waking up with my head resting on a metal keg barrel like a pillow.

"Hey! There's the champ." Said a voice. "Rise and shine, freshman."

I got up with a searing pain in my head, my eyes trying to adjust to the bright light.

"What's going on?" I groaned.

"Hah! You never passed out before, have you? Well this, my friend, is what we bartenders call a 'hangover'"

I tried to retort something to him, but the vertigo feeling from trying to stand up too fast caused me to fall over again. The fast hit back on the keg made a loud clanging sound that made me feel like I was getting a nail shoved into my eye.

"Whoa! Easy there, buddy." Said the voice. I felt him sit me up straight, and shove something in my hands.

"What is this?" I moaned.

"Coffee. Never heard of it?"

I strained to see him, but the light made him look like nothing more than a silhouette.

"I've heard of it. I just can't see well. I guess this really is my first hangover."

"Well, you know what they say: you never forget your first."

My eyes began to adjust to the light, and I strained to see the person. All I could see was his hair was cut so short, he was almost bald as a cue ball.

"So what's your name, kid?"

"Oliver." I replied. "Oliver Blake."

I felt the stranger's hand thrust into mine, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Oliver. I'm Carl. Carl Maclaren."

I was soon at the breakfast bar in the house, talking with Carl. He was a few years older than me, and I could tell this guy was a real bartender. The way how he handled the situation with me showed me that he knew what he was doing. I heard mention of a pub he was running somewhere in New York, but that wasn't why he was interested in talking with me.

"I was at the party last night. Owed a favor to a friend to help with the drinks. I saw you with those beers, man. How you drank both of them together cause you clearly didn't give a damn. And I saw you mix a few drinks together after that. You clearly got some kind of natural talent, man."

"Why are you talking to me, dude?" I asked, rubbing my head.

"I know a guy. He's been looking for people to teach bartending to for a while. He'd take you in no doubt. Especially if I, one of his students, recommended him to teach you."

"Oh yeah?" I said. "What makes you think I want to be a goddamn barkeep?"

"I don't go to this school, but I know a few things. Sooner or later, students here need to find jobs if they want to stay. You don't find a job, then you're screwed. Also, another thing about this guy: some of his students have almost instantly found work in bars after they left his teachings. You take a year or two under his wing, and you'll be guaranteed a job once you're of age."

"Whatever. I'll see if I'll show up."

"If you do, you'll need these." Carl handed me two things: a folded piece of paper, and a keychain. The keychain was a silver circle with what looked like a raindrop engraved on it. It was kinda like a big coin.

"Just consider this offer, Oliver. You might like it."