Fate and The Schizophrenic Table

Now that all the burglary excitement has worn off, I figure I'd better get caught up on all things bar related. First order of business, Manuel's hosting this week's Roundtable, a.k.a. issue 18.

Second order of business - bar news from that fateful night.

I got in at four, had a slow, slow happy hour. Laura got in at six and it stayed slow, slow for the next few hours. It proved to be another one of those nights when my co-worker and I are mistaken for being the same person.

Older gal at Laura's table (waving at me): I think we will have some popcorn after all.
Me: I'm so excited for you, but why are you telling me?

It was so slow, it caused me physical pain. A table here, a table there, everyone was drinking slowly and there weren't many people in the place to begin with. I tell Laura, "So, if this keeps up, I'm thinking I'll duck out at ten."

A couple more tables wander in. Two come in a the same time: one is a handful of people in scrubs, the other is Rob and Melissa. Laura and I briefly confer.
Laura: Why don't you take the scrubs and I'll take Rob and Melissa since they usually stay a while?
Me: Sounds like a plan.

I mosey on over to the table and they're hungry. It's 5 min. until the kitchen closes, so I tell them I can squeeze them in as long as they order right away. They confer briefly about the friend who's on her way, then do a couple of appetizers and order drinks. One gal orders a double Bacardi Coke, tall.

By the time I get the appetizers out, they're ready for another round. Another double Bacardi Coke, tall. A bit later, rum & coke gal orders another. At this point, she's downed two doubles in roughly forty minutes. I debate with myself.
Me: That's a lot of liquor.
Myself: Yeah, I know. I don't want to cut her off, though. Hrm...
Me: What about make it a regular Bacardi Coke tall? No double.
Myself: You think she'll notice?
Me: Probably not, and it's not like you'd be charging her for the non-existent shot.
Myself: Sounds like a plan.
I ring up a Bacardi Coke tall, no double shot. I mention what I'm doing to Brandi. She finds it highly amusing.
I bring the round over, including the diluted RC. When I check back later, RC gal says nothing. She hasn't noticed.

Meanwhile, the friend arrives. She sits down and demands a menu. Her friends inform her that the kitchen's closed. She's adamant that it isn't. Yup, she's that kind. After I regretfully inform her that there are no more sandwiches to be had, she demands popcorn and a Jack Daniels on the rocks. I bring them. A short time later, she demands more popcorn, having wolfed down what I'd brought. Another basket of popcorn later, she tells me I should bring two baskets, one for each end of the table. I pick the biggest baskets I can find and load them to the brim.

RC gal has another. Brandi tells me I should give her a straight Coke this time. Since I don't hate the table (or RC gal) I decline. Brandi is very disappointed.

A couple hours later and Rob and Melissa have gone home. My table has not. Demanding woman informs me that she needs her tab. Right now. $10, she leaves $1. How nice. The remainder of my table stays. Two new people join them.

By last call, a couple of people are still at my table. One who isn't is a woman who still owes me $10.50 for her beers. Very cool gal says, "I guess put it on my tab" and leaves me %20 on the total.

On the whole, a hit-and-miss table. Typically, I would've liked them okay, except that they stayed forever and all I wanted to do was go home and fall asleep. I did get a backrub, though, while waiting for last call. That was a high point for the night.

I can't help but wonder, in the grand scheme of things, whether the table's extended stay was an even greater harm than it would seem, or a particularly lucky stroke. I have no way of knowing when my house was broken into, so I can't help but ask a couple of questions. If I'd gotten home at ten o'clock, would my house still have gotten broken into? Did the table's lingering cost me a stereo? Or, did it save me from a violent encounter with the burglar?