| | | Editor's note: When we got to work today, we found another e-mail from that bartending, skateboarding buddy of ours in California. We decided to pass it along again. A word of warning: always wear a helmet.
Chapter 36
... in which our hero contemplates saving one of our country's most notorious sports-and-sex bars by opening the Anna Kournikova Room
I've never been somebody to turn away from a challenge. So when Stu Getzler told me I'd never make it in the sports bar business, I couldn't take that lying down.
He actually didn't put it in those words. The words he put it in were, "You're fired, Wheeler."
He really had no reason for firing me. The only reason he could come up with was "tardiness."
"But I had car trouble, Stu," I told him.
"You always say it's car trouble, Wheeler," he said. "Last Thursday you said it was car trouble. Same thing yesterday. And you don't even own a stinking car."
"That's what I call car trouble," I said.
|  | | If all the waitresses dressed like Anna Kournikova, how could a sports bar fail? |
Stu didn't think that was funny, and so there I was after he walked away, just looking at the folded up newspaper he threw down that he'd carried with him out of the can after his afternoon sit. It was "Sports Bar" weekly. And on the other side of the fold was an ad: For Sale. One of Atlanta's Hottest Bars. Patronized by Terrell Davis, Dikembe Mutombo and other sports superstars. There was a big picture of Patrick Ewing.
That's when I decided that Stu Getzler wasn't going to have the last word about my future in the sports bar business.
I know how Lore's works inside-out. I'm sure I could make a go of that club in Atlanta.
Puker and I met with Janine at her house, and we studied the ad. Janine said that what we needed was a "syndicate" to make an offer on the place. We sat there wondering how we'd get a sudden influx of money, and then Puker had the best idea he's had since nude street luge. He suggested we pool the tax refunds President Bush is sending out as a down payment.
We all suddenly felt like we were shooting right down the barrel of a big wave, that's how happy we were.
"Picture it, Puker," I told him. "The Anna Kournikova Room."
The Anna Kournikova Room will be just off to the left when you enter the place. We want there to be a big round entrance arch with wood the color of her hair. The floor is going to be soft. We will commission LeRoy Neiman to paint huge portraits of Anna on the walls.
Then we'll get her to send us some memorabilia. There won't be any trophies, but we don't care. We'll put her bobby pins in glass cases. All the waitresses will serve drinks in Anna-style tennis dresses. And they will all have really long, blonde hair that will fall across their shoulders when they are serving you nachos. We'll have special nachos with caviar that we'll call Nachos Anna.
One day Anna will come to visit and sign autographs. And she'll sit at the bar and have a refreshment. And after that, she'll never want to leave. She'll live upstairs.
|  | | Perhaps Anna could unveil her new line of sports bras at the club. |
The only snag we hit in our planning was that Puker wanted to manage the Anna Kournikova Room. I said that if I was going to run the club, I had to have total supervision of it, including the Anna Kournikova Room.
Puker didn't like that. He said I was being defensive on account of Stu Getzler telling me I have no future in the sports bar business, besides which, maybe Stu is right. Puker is a totally great dude. But he is sometimes so stubborn, and pretty soon we were rolling around on the floor in Janine's apartment, while I tried to talk him out of being so stubborn about running the Anna Kournikova Room.
We finally agreed that we would let someone else run the club, while Puker and I managed the Anna Kournikova Room and waited for her to show up.
The next day I went to see Stu Getzler to pick up my skateboard and clean out a few other things. I knocked on Stu's office door to say goodbye, but I couldn't hide a smile when I told him my big plans about the club that Puker, Janine and I were going to buy and turn into a hot sports bar in Atlanta.
"What club are you going to buy in Atlanta?" Stu laughed.
I showed him in the paper. The ad with Patrick Ewing. How Dikembe and T. Davis and all the rest of the superstars liked to hang out there.
Stu laughed hard.
"The current name of that bar is 'The Gold Club,' " Stu said. "That joint's under investigation for mob contacts. No athlete'll go near the place now ..."
I guess Stu saw how that took a little bit of the air out of me.
"... but just the fact that you're thinking about that, Wheeler, shows me your desire."
Stu said he'd help me buy a new used car, and he gave me my old job back.
I asked him if it would be OK for us to discuss the possibility of having an Anna Kournikova Room at Lore's -- or, maybe, just an alcove.
Stu said, "How about we just try to get an autographed picture?"
I was never happier to tie on an apron.
Next week: In Chapter 37, a reality show enlists our hero's help in playing a practical joke on Barry Bonds.
 Send this story to a friend | Most sent stories
|
|
|
