Monkeys are Invading, Oh my. Or Should I say, my O?

I was at my favorite haunt earlier at my usual reserved table when a bunch of newcomers showed up and planted themselves beside my table.  At first I was considering being congenial when I realized they were new to the bar after one of them asked a friend, "Where's the rest room in this place?"  Newbies to my favorite haunt nowadays usually meant people who used to go to the currently closed "other" bar which had shut down to do renovations due to a very "timely" fire that happened recently to the place.

Things turned south, however, when two in the group looked at me and noticed that I was sitting and enjoying some mixed sausage dish with my beer rather than scouting for man-meat or dancing.  Two of the group, perhaps wrongly thinking I had less-than-adequate hearing skills, started a conversation about me:

Monkey One:  Pare, You'd think people would go to a bar to drink and dance.
Monkey Two:  Probably cause no one is minding him.  That's what happens when you're not hot.

I had half the mind to educate the monkeys on a few facts, when it dawned upon me any attempt to illuminate them on the truth would fall on brains that were unable to comprehend higher communication.  The facts were:

1) The bar was my favorite haunt.  One that had to a great extent recognized my presence as one they enjoyed having.  While most patrons enjoy a bar just to hunt for man-meat or get drunk, I was actually one of the few who gave back to the bar my own display of gratitude by supporting it in various means, from spreading news of the place to others to generate new customers, or by informing them of any problems that arise (e.g. drunken patrons who need to be shown out, abusively rude patrons who think anyone in the bar can be molested sexually, etc)  As such, I actually am reserved a table for the nights I show up.  I am given some extra space when I am there to celebrate a birthday or other special occasion.  And more.

2) While drinking and dancing was expected of such a place, they also pride themselves in having great food. And that was a service I was indulging in gratefully.  For them to think eating there was a "wrong thing to do" was clearly a show of how inept and ignorant they are of the place.

3) I am happily in a relationship.  I had no intention of hunting for meat.  I had no desire to be the target of people hunting for meat.  In fact, I had two guys trying to eye-volleyball me whom I ignored, and one guy who hit on me in the bathroom who I turned down, gently.   I don't recall any of them actually being approached the whole night.  Oh wait, the waiter did.  I guess that *should* count.  At least he was someone who wanted "something" from them.  Bwahahah!

4) They were monkeys.  For all their pomp, they were barely attractive or noteworthy.  Heck, I only noticed them because they chose to plant themselves near me and had the gall to mouth me off.  No sass.  No style.  No breeding.  Nuff said.

So rather than make an issue out of it, I enjoyed my food and drinks and shared more laughs with my friend, and quietly smiled as the show began and their drinks, which were littering the stage area, were gathered as they were shooed away to move to some other dark corner instead.

While I am given some level of special treatment, it is a bonus that I have been given having earned it.  I am a regular of the place and in more times than one have shown that I give back to the bar in many ways.    I only hope that the place those monkeys frequent reopens soon, just so that they stop polluting places I hang out at with their clearly misguided self-delusion of self-importance.

Monkeys, be warned.
I bark back when pushed.
Don't wait for the point I bite.