A pair of gentlemen to my right were chatting about his impending engagement, discussing the different rings he looked at for his future (hopefully) wife. A group of girls in the corner were giggling about God knows what, but promptly left at 7 when happy hour ended. The older gentlemen to my right, a former FBI agent turned liaison for the Maryland State Police, chatted my coworker and I up for the better part of our happy hour(s). Unfortunately, my friend and I did most of the talking, and I know little about him. Get a few drinks in me and I'll talk myself silly.
As I was driving home, I reran the montage of people I've met (or observed) at happy hour over the course of my...happy hour escapades. There is always one or two individuals that look like they're trying to drown their sorrows from impending doom, another couple looking too friendly at a private corner table, and the one or two strays that are at the bar by themselves, looking to pass time before heading home, alone or otherwise.
My blue moon was flat tonight so I had to settle for an old school Coors Light in the bottle. Boy, have my beer tastes changed. But that's for another post I suppose.
