Dam

“Isn’t it great how it’s so loud in here that you can insult anyone you want and they can’t hear you?”
“I wondered why I came in here. Plus the drinks. You want something?”
“Tequila.”
As he walked to the bar, Julian reflected on the fact that Ricardo seemed desperate to convince people that he was Latino. It wasn’t even his real name, though what the actual name was remained a mystery. Julian was going to get a regular pint to help him through an evening of Ricardo’s so-called “Wit.” If he could push and shove his way through this crowd. These people who ignored the chairs. Stood around talking as if no one else was there, having to move around them or barrel role straight through. Then he’d have to get near the bartender, once he actually reached the sacred place where drinks are served. That strange promised land of glasses and bottles. Then he’d be close enough to shout his order out above the voice of some half naked teenager whose lyrics are incoherent and show little knowledge of, or respect for, the English language. Except he’d have to interrupt other people in order to get a drink order in edgeways. It was too hot as well. Or rather it was too itchy to be in these clothes, they were sticking to him too much. The heat was causing it though.
“As long as it’s here whilst I’m still alive you take all the time you want” Ricardo somehow managed to shout audibly above the din.
“Public insults are great, I’m telling you” Julian said to some random person at the realm of alcohol, which he had now reached. Ricardo wasn’t really being rude though. He just had a sort of dry, sarcastic sense of humour, but he didn’t mean anything by it. Julian was starting to panic. He hated noise, crowds, heat, this atmosphere pressing down on him as if he was carrying a bag full of bricks on each of his shoulders, and another one on his head. Stifling, like a rope around his neck. He decided it would be easier if you just wrote his drink order on a napkin instead of trying to shout it out. He searched for a pen. He gave it to the barman, who, assuming that it was just a napkin, threw it away and then asked Julian what he wanted.
“To get out of here.”
Julian knew he had to leave right at that moment, or something bad would happen. He didn’t know what, or how bad, but it would be chaotic. A headache, insanity, hurting himself or others, collapsing into unconsciousness. Anything! He had to get out of this human roundabout he’d been dragged into. The question was how to leave. He could go back to his seat, and try to explain how he felt to Ricardo. Except he knew Ricardo wouldn’t understand. After Ricardo failed to appreciate the situation, Julian would have to put up with so much fuss about why he wanted to leave. Complaints first, jokes later. He knew he was being unfair to Ricardo too, but the way he was feeling was getting in the way of him feeling anything else. He knew what he had to do.
“Is there another exit, apart from the front door. I know that sounds weird, but please tell me” Julian said/shouted. The barman sigh, as if he’d heard dozens of weird requests from his customers recently, and was getting a little sick of them. Then he told Julian what he wanted to know.

Suddenly Julian was gone. One minute Ricardo could see the back of his blue T-shirt, and his brown hair. Then two other heads, short blonde and black in a ponytail, got in the way. When they moved, Julian was gone. Ricardo looked around for him elsewhere in the room, but couldn’t see him. Of course he’d be hard to spot amongst this crowd, but then the chances that he could have gotten away from the actual bar that quickly seemed slim. Besides which, if he had done, why wasn’t he coming back with drinks? Ricardo’s mobile rung.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. I had to go. Quickly. Sorry. I’ll explain tomorrow I promise.”