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The hubby and I had an interesting couple of days.... I mean nights. We did the mystery shop at a neighborhood tavern Friday and Saturday night. The kids were at the grandparents' houses for the weekend so we didn't have to worry about having a curfew - which was really nice.

But it's been quite a while since we've gone out TWO nights in a row and not returned home before 3 a.m. In fact, I am very sure that it was years and years ago.

It feels like it was a hundred years ago.

Or is it that I feel like I'm a hundred years old? (sigh)

The tavern is actually pretty great. Nice decor, good food, and friendly staff and patrons. It's the kind of place we'd actually like to hang out even if we weren't hired to do so. And if, you know, we actually had a social life and went out more than once every six months.

Of course, like any bar anywhere - there was a light sprinkling of wackos in the with ordinary people. We got to see arguments that almost escalated into a fight on both nights, and a table and chair got knocked over in a fit of testosterone-fueled rage during one of those nights.

The only casualty was a broken ashtray. But no punches were thrown, no blood was spilled, and soon after the shouting died down, everyone went back to their bottles and glasses and cigarettes and video poker games.

I confess that 99% of my brain was focused on the job to be done, and watching for all those no-no's that so often occur in a bar.

But that remaining 1%? That was in full-on blog-material-seeker-mode.

Just for you folks.

Let me tell you about some of the people we encountered ...

There's the petite little lady who severely misjudged her alcohol tolerance. Whenever she had to walk any where - usually to the bathroom and then back to her bar stool - she walked with both hands grabbing onto anything that was stationary, taking tiny little unsure steps.

It was very much like watching a toddler get the hang of walking by holding onto furniture. The only difference being that the toddler seems to get better with each attempt. By the end of the evening, as her boyfriend steered her out the door, all I could think was how likely it was that she was going to barf in his truck on the way home.

There was the group of late-20-somethings who were obviously trying to rekindle the college drinking nights of old. The did everything but play quarters on the table. They did shots and pounded beers and reminisced.

They talked of friends they had lost touch with as each one got married and had kids, and how those old friends wouldn't come out and drink with them any more. I was seeing them through my own experienced eyes. I could relate to the changes that occur when your circle of friends start "growing up" and having families.

Then I overheard two of the guys talking, away from the rest of the gang. And I admit I lost a little of the kinship and fondness I was feeling for the group. You see, they were out celebrating the fact that the only couple in the group was expecting a little bundle of joy of their own.

Yes, that little blonde with the cute pixie haircut ... the one tossing back shots like it was Spring Break?

The one matching her husband/boyfriend beer for beer?

She's at a bar, celebrating (?) the fact that she's two months pregnant.

Then there's the plant. A plant is a person who sits at the bar and plays a video gambling machine so long that you really wouldn't be surprised to see a root system under her bar stool. This is a lady in her mid-forties who is nursing Baileys on the rocks, chain smoking, and playing video Keno. She never looks around, never takes her eyes off the video screen, never talks with anyone but the bartender.

Now, meet the bespectacled young couple. Early 20's, almost the same shade of brown hair, matching flip flops. Obviously dating for a just few months, they are laughing, talking, nuzzling and sharing quick kisses. Very tasteful and non-offensive PDA. When the bar gets busier, he offers his lap for her to perch on until another bar stool opens up. She giggles and climbs up. She sits with her arm around his shoulders, leaning in to rest her head against his or kiss his cheek. Gradually, their conversation becomes softer and more intimate. When they say good bye to friends and leave for the evening, they stroll out with arms wrapped around each other, her head resting on his shoulder.
I saw more than a few older couples glance at them, wistful little smiles on their faces, remembering the early days of their own romances.

Well, there's a sample. Funny and sad and sweet. Just your typical evening out with the usual bar patrons. With the exception of the video gaming, I'm fairly certain you see the same group at your local bar and grill on the average weekend night.

All things considered, it was pretty damn fun for a job we're getting paid for.

Let's see ... listen to good music on the (digital) jukebox, eat bar food, watch Sportscenter on a huge-ass big screen TV, drink and laugh with my favorite person.

Twist my arm. I just might be talked into doing this again.