A typical night slinging drinks until about 12:30 a.m. Enter train wreck: A young blonde shoots through the door like a bullet followed by the discharged shell: a man I can only describe as a good John Waters, An ugly Burt Reynolds and a bad Mr. Furley.

Beady eyes framed by a grey and receding hairline, pencil-thin mustache, a gold chain hugging his Adam’s apple and a shirt unbuttoned to the point that makes me want to get some turtlenecks for the summer.

“Hey, Lisa, what can I get for the two of you?” I ask.

She spits out their order and I oblige. So begins the P.D.A. For those of you unfamiliar that stands for Public Display of Affection.

They begin to use their faces like a trash compactor, crushing and mashing lips, teeth and tongues. He is sucking her face like a Skeksis on a Gelfling’s essence.

At this point a hefty Boston Bruiser of a gentleman and a naturally beautiful blonde sit down at the other end of the bar. I will get to know them as Andy and Sanna. They came in to watch the train wreck that had started at another bar.

Nodding my head back and forth while looking down at the rubber mats behind the bar I say, “I know, I know, I know her.” Between her chuckle and his chortle I do my best to keep a straight face.

What follows are all real quotes from our special spectacle of a couple, thanks to the dictation of Miss Vodka Soda sitting next to them.

“How many kids do you have?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like the fact that I like you.”

“Do you know I have a jet? I have power. I know about you and I."

“Shut the %@# up.”

“%$@ you!”

At this point they begin to make out fiercely. She pulls away and motions for him to pay me. He takes out a $50 and sets it on the bar. She quickly slides the bill my way shouting

“Keep it Chucky Boy, keep it. You take care of me Chucky Boy!”

You know, even in the wee hours of some dark bar in Ballard there is someone for everyone. And for a 185 percent tip, they can come back anytime.

Hell, I’ll even bartend the wedding.

"Notes From the Bar Room Floor" will be a weekly feature here on the new Ballard News-Tribune Web site including articles, poems and general musings about the ever growing nightlife and bar scene in this sodden little berg we call Ballard.

Charles J. Thompson currently works as a bartender in Ballard and if not at work is probably getting into his cups somewhere in the neighborhood.