A pint at the pub
I burst out laughing,dropping onto the couch that is entirely too small for my six-four frame. Maybe I will need to find some new furniture.
Is that so?
Especially if the assistant coach is buying
How can I say no to that?
Great. See you in twenty
I punchthe name of the pub into my phone and see that it’s a short walk away. This is something I’m not used to. At home in Nashville, I had to drive everywhere. Now, with a card for the subway loaded onto my phone, I don’t need a car.
Stepping into my black boots, I head out into the London night.
Cars are rattling along the road. Something else I need to get used to—driving on the other side of the road.
I didn’t do much traveling growing up. With hockey, it took precedence over everything. I never experienced anything like this.
An Indian restaurant is next to a laundromat which is next to a cell phone repair store. Down the way is where I stopped in for food. And beyond that is a small park before a music store.
An eclectic mix of everything.
Something I’m already finding in my neighborhood? There is no shortage of pubs. Every façade seems to want to one-up the other. Colors explode out of hanging flowerbaskets. Large windows are open to tables with stools, people crowded around with beers in hand.
Finding the pub Alfie mentioned, I squeeze in through a group of well-dressed people and scan the crowd. I’ve only seen Alfie in pictures, but I spot him immediately.
With curly red hair and glasses, he stands out. I never would have thought this man to be a hockey player, but he was one of the best to ever play for the Lightning. He was brought on as a new assistant coach.
They cleaned house when they let go of the old coach.
“Alfie.”
“Stanley. Good to finally meet you in person.”
I shake his proffered hand.
“Please, call me Tag.”
“Still weird to me they hired an American.” He flags down the bartender. “What’ll ya be having?”
“IPA if you have one.”
“Got it.” The bartender nods and grabs a glass to pull my drink. “Cheers, mate.”
I smile at him as I raise my glass in toast. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
I sip on the hoppy beer, letting it buzz through my veins. Now that I’m out, I feel better. More awake.
“How’s the flat?” Alfie asks. “Everything good there?”
I waggle my head in a figure eight motion. “Fine. Might need a new couch though. Not made for an ex-hockey player.”
“Definitely not. I’ve got a place I can recommend for you.”
“Thanks.”
My eyes scan the crowd and I’m drawn to the trio of women laughing at the high-top table across the bar, especially one in particular.
