Life with the jokers: on tour

Part 2

We arrived in Georgia by 10:00 and found an actual cafe for breakfast.

"I'm starving," Joe complained. When actually, in fact, Joe had already pigged our on the toast, bagels, croissants and other pastry we had in the cupboard to last us a few days.

"Dude, you ate all our food," Murr slapped him, half laughing half serious, "we're the ones who should be hungry."

After 5 minutes of walking around loose in the neighbourhood, Joe pointed out a small bar facing away from the busy streets.

Behind the heavy wooden door was a quiet hum of chatter. The warm fire invited us inside, drawing us into the couch beside the flames.

"Joe," Sal whispered, "I dare you to warm your ass by the fire."

Joe laughed, then stood on the couch and warmed up his behind by the fire. I noticed myself cringing whilst people glared in our direction. Me and Q sat facing Sal and Joe, and Murr brought his own chair to the table.

"What are you guys having?" Sal asked, leaning his arms on the table.

"I'll take one of everything," Joe threw his menu down.

"No, seriously," Sal replied, "pick something."

Joe settled on a big breakfast, along with Q and Sal. Murr and I picked pancakes.

"Thanks," I said to Sal who was willingly paying.

So, Olivia," Q shot at me, "how excited are you for the first show in a month?"

"I'm super excited," I fired back.

Out the corner of my eye I could see Sal, his back facing us, at the bar; trying to calm down an angry, drunken man.

Q caught sight of my gaze, "he used to be a bartender. The best anyone could find." To which I nodded. I couldn't concentrate.

The guy by the bar was now shooting swear words at Sal- for no reason at all. He was a young man, maybe mid 20s, with a clean shaved head and many tattoos.

"What's up with that guy?" I asked Q, hopefully hinting about what was going on.

Sal had surrendered many times, but the guy wouldn't give up. The guy was pointing his shrivelled finger at Sal's chest, his heady eyes glaring into Sals.

"Hey, Hey, Hey," Q rushed in, pushing the guy backwards a step. "What's the matter?"

"He jumped the Q that's what's the matter," the guy squared Q up, his head at the same height as Q's.

Cautiously, I made my way over, for moral support.

"Hey, dude, I didn't know you were trying to order. And you've been sitting at that seat for ages," Sal spoke up, but the guy just clenched his hand into a fist.

"You'll just have to go afterwards," Q scrunched his eyebrows at the guy. "30 seconds doesn't harm anyone."

The guy swung his fist up to Q's face, and, momentarily, jumped on his back trying to stop him last minute.

It was panic that took over.

It was only for a split second I was actually on the guy, but it managed to save Q from a huge fight. Q could definitely have taken him in a fight. Clearly. His swing fist missed by miles because of the shock of me behind him.

He shoved me off quickly before squaring Q up again, but the bartenders had already brought out a security man to escort the guy out of the bar.

How awkward.

Us 3 stood in silence for a minute. We could feel the burns from the stares of the audience behind us. What could we possibly say? Sal tapped his bank card against the bar, Q sat down in shock and I felt dizzy.

I had just stopped a guy from staring a brawl!

Awkwardly, we sat back down on the couch. A whole new atmosphere consumed us. No more was small talk and light hearted humour.

Silence.

Silence.

Facing the ceiling, facing the cobbled walls, we were all staring in a different direction.

"I'm sorry, guys," Sal said. 

It was a relief to have someone talk.

"What for?" Q asked, giving him a sincere gesture.

"I don't know... getting that guy all riled up."

"He was just an asshole," I added, trying to lighten the mood.

"It just feels like one of them warnings that things aren't going to go how you want them," Sal sighed, resting his head in his hands, "like something bad could happen."

Then Joe spoke up: "Just because something you're not expecting happens doesn't mean it's something bad."