The Dates Have Been Omitted To Protect The Children

Back in the early 1990s,

when I was still drinking pretty heavily,

I used to stop in at a little place called

"One More That's It."

Located in

Oceanside, California.

Affectionately referred to as

"OMTI."

And by its latest

Yelp

reviews,

it hasn't changed one bit.

What I wanted to tell you is the true story,

of what happened to me,

on one stormy rainy night.

Not really,

it was a clear sunny evening in beautiful southern

California.

Well,

the true part is,

I got married late in life.

I got married the old fashion way too!

My girlfriend,

who became my wife,

was pregnant.

My wife was a widower who already had three children.

Luckily for me,

they welcomed me with open arms.

So,

there I was,

an instant

Daddy

with four children.

My problem was,

I wasn't mature enough to give up my bad habits right away.

My wife was constantly worried about me driving drunk.

She would call the bar all the time,

and if I was there,

drive down to pick me up so I wouldn't get busted for drunk driving.

So one time,

I was sitting at the bar,

and I thought I had a great idea for staying longer than usual.

I told the bartender that if my wife called,

tell her I wasn't here.

I was hoping that she would think I was working late.

Of course,

the phone soon rang

and the bartender followed my instructions to a

T.

Well,

OMTI

is a rectangular type of building,

with the bar itself going lengthwise inside the building.

That's so it can accommodate as many bar stools as possible.

The entrance is at one of the short ends of the rectangle.

There I was,

sitting at the far end of the bar,

from the entrance,

on a stool.

Now,

I don't want to brag,

but when I would enter the bar,

everyone would yell

"Howie."

Everyone new my name.

Again,

there I was,

thinking I had beat the system

and I would be able to get really loaded that night.

All of a sudden,

my wife,

all five foot of her,

comes bursting through the front door screaming profanities in

Tagalog,

and running straight at me.

The whole place goes dead silent.

While she is running,

she pulls off her right shoe,

mind you,

she never stopped running,

and threw at me,

hitting me right in my forehead.

I went straight back,

off of the bar stool,

landing on my back,

onto the floor a little dazed.

OK,

a lot dazed.

For a split second,

you could have heard a pin drop.

All of sudden,

an uproarious burst of laughter hit all the patrons at once.

They all loved my wife from that day forward

and for months thereafter,

talked about how a five foot

Filipina

woman took down a six foot

Caucasian!

This is,

I Swear,

It Was Really George Foreman Who Knocked Me Out,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a tavern where I can pay an under-dressed woman to sit on my lap and look very pleased with me while I drink heavily”
- Lisa Kleypas -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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