Sir, You Need to Calm Down.

“Sir, you need to calm down.” The bartender puts her hand up in front of her and backs away from me.
I start to laugh, wondering what she is talking about. I was just sitting here enjoying my pint and I asked for another one. She looks oddly familiar. I make to rise up off my seat and ask her what I did wrong when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around a see a security guard. He’s tall, blocky with a shock of red hair.
“Sir, you need to calm down.” Again, I chuckle and look around at the other patrons, only now they are not there. The young couple sitting next to me, a fair haired man and brown haired woman, have moved to the other end of the bar. They are shouting something over to me but the music is very loud. After a small lull in the music I hear them shouting the exact phrase that the security guard and the bartender had just said.

The bartender has reached the end of the bar and hasn’t taken her eyes off of me. I can see her hand and lip quivering, terrified. But I still don’t know what I have done, and look pleadingly into the security guard’s eyes. He leans in close, his blue eyes boring into mine, whispering, “Just calm down. This happens to everybody.” I wrench my shoulder from his grasp which wasn’t that strong. I burst out the back doors, passing two bouncers who tell me to go get a coffee and to come back when I’ve calmed down. I look back at them, realising they are twins. They both turn to watch me walk right down the busy city street.
Pubs, clubs and restaurants adorn each side of the street. My friends are all outside one of them, beckoning me over and at the last second turning away. I hear them say, “But you work every weekend, we didn’t think you’d mind.”, as I continue on, confused beyond belief.
Further on, I see all the lads from America. For a brief second my heart leaps with joy. Cigarette smoke blurs them in front of me, each asking the same question, “Are you coming back? You said you were.” I can’t get through the smoke and tears begin to form as I shout, “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!”

Through the haze of smoke and tears I manage to hail a taxi. I hop in, speaking to the back of his ginger head. ‘Home, please.”
“You need to calm down. This happens to everyone, it’s normal to feel like this.”
“What is everyone talking about? I’m fine! I had one fucking pint and I got refused another drink! What is it with this fucking town?!”
The driver turns around and the shock of seeing myself in the front seat causes me to jump up in my seat, banging my head on the roof, hard. I begin to feel woozy, my vision slipping.
He, I, look down at myself, shaking my head and sighing. “He’ll be grand, it’s just a bad day.”