The three saddest words in the English language -- as is well known toda el mundo -- are ‘no-host bar.’
BYOB? Fine. Cruise the wine cellar and Sally Forth!
But … no-host? This means cash. Out-of-pocket. Bartender tips. Treating mere acquaintances to yet another round. Polite laughter at lame business witticisms. Penury.
The ‘no-host’ tie-in to pool?
Think game-rigor. The steeliness of your opponent’s gaze. The unforgiving pockets. The bad rolls. The loss of game, match, status, pride. Money.
No-host.
Conversely …
The four most utterly satisfying words in every language known to womankind (including Uspantek) are ‘I told you so.’
Of course, the phrase ‘I told you so’ speaks its loudest -- TRIUMPHANTLY! MAJESTICALLY! -- when it is, in fact, unspoken.
So, after your well-earned felt-conquest … comes the small and charmingly-modest smile. The outstretched hand of understanding sympathy to the vanquished. The unceremonious unscrewing and docking of your non-flamboyant cue into its understated case.
A subtle nod to the admiring viewers.
A graceful -- don’t vogue it, boys! -- departure.
Politeness is my life,
Sunny
P. S. An aside? By suggesting winner-appropriate protocols, I am in no way suggesting that I am the Miss Manners of pool emporia. That would be bad juju, bwana. If one is allowed to blend West and East African patois.
Eh? What’s that? One is? Thanks ever so much!
Hakuna matata, mes amis! If one is allowed to blend … well, never mind!
BYOB? Fine. Cruise the wine cellar and Sally Forth!
But … no-host? This means cash. Out-of-pocket. Bartender tips. Treating mere acquaintances to yet another round. Polite laughter at lame business witticisms. Penury.
The ‘no-host’ tie-in to pool?
Think game-rigor. The steeliness of your opponent’s gaze. The unforgiving pockets. The bad rolls. The loss of game, match, status, pride. Money.
No-host.
Conversely …
The four most utterly satisfying words in every language known to womankind (including Uspantek) are ‘I told you so.’
Of course, the phrase ‘I told you so’ speaks its loudest -- TRIUMPHANTLY! MAJESTICALLY! -- when it is, in fact, unspoken.
So, after your well-earned felt-conquest … comes the small and charmingly-modest smile. The outstretched hand of understanding sympathy to the vanquished. The unceremonious unscrewing and docking of your non-flamboyant cue into its understated case.
A subtle nod to the admiring viewers.
A graceful -- don’t vogue it, boys! -- departure.
Politeness is my life,
Sunny
P. S. An aside? By suggesting winner-appropriate protocols, I am in no way suggesting that I am the Miss Manners of pool emporia. That would be bad juju, bwana. If one is allowed to blend West and East African patois.
Eh? What’s that? One is? Thanks ever so much!
Hakuna matata, mes amis! If one is allowed to blend … well, never mind!