Personal Narrative: Bars

It's a Friday afternoon, I plan to go to Great Wolf Lodge in an hour with my church. I see one of my friends so he says to his mom “ Hey, that's my friend” I said “Crap” So I go inside to sign in to go and see my friends just sitting in a corner on a big sofa. We are listening to music and just talking then a green bus comes.

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

Our shack is not much better than being outside because there are holes in the roof and it is more humid in here than out there. We cool off in the local stream and get a loaf of bread and soup for the afternoon lunch. After our bellies are stuffed we go back to work. I can tell on the other guys faces that they don't want to be here anymore than anyone else. But we all have to push through it to get our pay so we can get our pay. After hours go by, and it feels like day we all go to which is the best part because the cool air is refreshing, Lennie and I sit up and look at the stars the we both go into our shack. We strip down to our boxers and climb in our bunks and I can feel the creepy crawlies crawling all over my body, and I can see in Lennie's eyes that he is scared, and confused about what is crawling around on his body. I fall asleep and before we know it we are waking up and it is all starting over

This past year, I have been apart of Naperville Central’s brand new Special Spaces club. When my friend approached me and asked me to join, I agreed even though I had no clue what I was involving myself in. In retrospective, I can honestly say that becoming a part of Special Spaces has been one of the most meaningful, fun, and fulfilling experiences I have had in high school.

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

Ever since i was a kid, my parents always told me to never steal anything and never do any piracy. That is one thing that I still and always will follow my entire life. When I was a kid, I stole a candy bar and my parents caught me. I got in big trouble. I had to My day was as normal as ever, after work I came home around 7 p.m. and i'm going to the bar now. I went to “Kevin’s Bar’ and bought myself a $20 drink. I had only $30 left before i was out of money. All the girls saw me buy that expensive drink for myself, seeing that I was at self-pity and they all repelled away from me. Those $30 extra dollars that I had was gone in 10 minutes of self-pity. I was starting to get really drowsy here and there being at the bar for hours and hours. I eventually approached the girls at the V.I.P. area, but they all ignored me and was being dragged away.I got drowsy again. The last thing I heard was screaming and arguing from the girls before the door closed . Something came into my hands before I was dragged away, but i don’t know what it is, anyway I didn't care as long as i got home. I called my wife to bring me home who was later that

I’m in the prison line minding my own business as a few girls punch me. I did nothing to them, but that day i was getting out of prison and the girls get jealous if the others get out. The police are sending me to a foster home. My seventh one and i’m hoping it’s the last. My head is throbbing and there is a cut on the upper part of my lip. Before I leave I ask where is my brother you said you promise would never split us apart. The social worker finds my brother and he is taken out of the home he is in, now he is with me I feel safe.

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

These walls mock me. I can't escape this confinement. I've studied everything in my cell, the walls, the floor, bed, door, window, every pattern, every inch top to bottom. I see scars carved into the wall from people counting their days away. I count every second, minute, hour that i'm stuck in here, everyone seems to be longer than the next. It's hard not to think back to that moment but sometimes I can't help it. His voice fills my thoughts, every time I hear him it brings me back to that moment. The cool air of the night whistled through my town, as i turn off my car i hear the engine cutting off. I stop take and take a deep breath, i reach over to the glove box and grab the glock 45 the cold steel touches my hand. I put it in my jacket and walk into the store. I hold the gun up to him and say “give me the money” his face drops he tells me you don't want to do this to stop, it's too late now though there's no turning back. He throws the money on the floor, as i go to pick it up he grabs something from under the counter. I freak out and pull the trigger, i didn't mean to, i didn't want anyone to get hurt. It feels fake replaying over and over. Every sound, every smell, every emotion. I remember the whole night. I can't do

Heeled boots clicked against the hard wooden floor, taking a halt in the center of this rugged and filthy bar. Her dark blue eyes surveyed the room with contempt coating her face; a bunch of unsightly ruffians and brutes littered the premises.

I am sitting on the first booth table against the wall by the main entrance at Stella’s in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The smell of alcohol and sweat filled my nostrils as I breathe in the stuffy air. All around me are young people who are laughing a little too loudly, flirting with strangers, talking with friends, and playing video games while watching cartoons that are being played all around the bar. There are many people in this bar on a Saturday night at 11:35 pm. There are very little sitting and people coming in and out of various groups of people. Some of the people are losing their balance and attach to a friend or stranger to help them walk in a straight line. The women’s bathroom is packed with women and it is very little to none in

It was a cool November day, in the middle of Afghanistan. As a medic, I was sitting outside my make shift aid station with one of my buddies sharing stories about home. We hear a loud explosion right outside of the wire. I looked up and could see the cloud of smoke billowing up from about two hundred meters away. Not knowing how bad the situation was, I grabbed a few of my soldiers, our translator and my aid bag and ran straight to the smoke. When we got there, a group of civilians were huddled around a group of people who were yelling, screaming and crying. The translator found out that a group of three men and three children were walking around a field when one of the children stepped on a mine. One of my soldiers grabbed the mine

Thump! In a split second, I was lying on the ground. My head throbbing and my mind reeling. I had fallen from the high bars and slammed my head on the ground. I remember giving myself a concussion after that fall; I never wanted to get back on those bars. I had to do what I was afraid of despite the fear I felt in order to overcome larger obstacles in life.

On June 10th 2016 I woke up and went out to start my day. Since it was summer I usually spend my days swimming or at home playing in the yard. That day I decided it was a perfect day with excellent weather to spend my day at the Plymouth pool. It was a great day to lay out in the sun and get a sun kissed glow, but most of all to hangout with my friends. I would usually spend my whole day from noon to 6:00pm at the pool, but this time by surprise my mom picked me up early and told me my brother and his girlfriend Renee wanted to take me out to Chicago with them. I was told I was going to go to a carnival or out to eat in Chicago, but my mom knew all along where I was going. She told me to find a shirt with dark blue on it but I never knew

It's late July, and it's hotter than hell in Austin, but I'm okay. I'm sitting in a back booth in a cave of a bar on South Congress, staying AC cool. I've never been here before, but I feel right at home, absorbing the darkness and quiet jazz, and inhaling that beer-and-bourbon smell you only find in really good, really old dives. The SoCo hipsters won't come near the joint, because they can't get an Appletini. And I don't think this bar would work at all in California. It's not a place for white wine pansies. Nary a corkscrew to be found. Hell, it's never seen a bottle that needed one. Good beer, good vodka, and about 83 different kinds of Bourbon, Scotch and tequila. Brodie said to meet him here. I admit he has good taste in bars. He must have hung out at one like this back in Glasgow.