The Dive Bomber Cops Out at Area IV Station
Categories: Dive Bomber, Drink Drank Drunk
I know nothing about cop culture. When I saw the name Area IV on the awning, my first thought was sci-fi dive. With enough alcohol the badges covering the wall above the bar might pass for something space-age.
Really, they're just police badges from around the country, protected by little plastic slipcovers.
No one sat at the tables, but the bar was full: Older men and one woman watched a Blues game while perched on cracked and rickety captain's-chair-style bar stools. Next to me, a gray-haired man was discussing the importance of password protecting his home wireless connection to the gray-haired man behind the bar. They looped me into their conversation as if I'd been sitting there all night.
While my wireless concerns lean on the side of not wanting moochers slowing my speed, the other patron was more concerned about pedophiles stealing Wi-Fi signals for illegal activities and then pinning their ick on someone else's IP address. Since he's the cop, it's probably best to listen to him.
The lone woman joined us, obviously a friend of the man's. She launched into a story about her workplace -- a small company where the women recently discovered that their male owner had planted a camera disguised as an air freshener in the bathroom. She advised me to always check the air fresheners in bathrooms.
Trust me, from now on any air fresheners and possibly all free-standing soap dispensers will be tossed in the trash as soon as I enter a restroom.
And yet they all still work there, with the same boss. Who's going to fire him? Of course, there's no lack of cops to take him down, but then where will the people at the company work?
And you thought you had a tense work environment.
At the other end of the bar, two men did shots and whooped as the Blues scored twice. "I fucking love hockey!" one of them screamed. Later, when his friend's White Sox jacket fell on the floor, he stomped on it, screaming, "Obama! Obama! Obama! Obama!" Since his friend claimed to have been at the bar for over twelve hours, he didn't mind much.
"They're nothing but entertainment," the man next to me said.
When they left, I was relieved to see them walking home. They were in no condition to drive, and I hear the cops were out.
Really, they're just police badges from around the country, protected by little plastic slipcovers.
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| Robin Wheeler |
While my wireless concerns lean on the side of not wanting moochers slowing my speed, the other patron was more concerned about pedophiles stealing Wi-Fi signals for illegal activities and then pinning their ick on someone else's IP address. Since he's the cop, it's probably best to listen to him.
The lone woman joined us, obviously a friend of the man's. She launched into a story about her workplace -- a small company where the women recently discovered that their male owner had planted a camera disguised as an air freshener in the bathroom. She advised me to always check the air fresheners in bathrooms.
Trust me, from now on any air fresheners and possibly all free-standing soap dispensers will be tossed in the trash as soon as I enter a restroom.
And yet they all still work there, with the same boss. Who's going to fire him? Of course, there's no lack of cops to take him down, but then where will the people at the company work?
And you thought you had a tense work environment.
At the other end of the bar, two men did shots and whooped as the Blues scored twice. "I fucking love hockey!" one of them screamed. Later, when his friend's White Sox jacket fell on the floor, he stomped on it, screaming, "Obama! Obama! Obama! Obama!" Since his friend claimed to have been at the bar for over twelve hours, he didn't mind much.
"They're nothing but entertainment," the man next to me said.
When they left, I was relieved to see them walking home. They were in no condition to drive, and I hear the cops were out.
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