Football Sunday at Pepper's

Tonight, I'm watching the crowd at the bar. We are seated at a table pressed almost oppressively close to the L-formation of people clustered at the bar, a burnt gold trim occasionally shimmering between people. For the most part, they are watching the two football games flashing on the widescreens on the wall in front of them.

There isn't much light in the indoor-patio style bar except for soft white lights highlighting the alcohol behind the counter. There are a variety of expensive-looking bottles on the display, but all twelve or so people seated at the bar have ordered the same drink, except two: a tall yellow beer in a frosted glass. The dissenters, a higher-income appearing couple consisting of a sharply dressed woman in bright red high heels and a man in a new jersey with the name of a popular football player silk-screened on the back, have ordered margaritas.

Figuring out everyone's relationship to one another is a challenge. Some don't appear to know one another at all, yet each of them shouts or mutters to everyone else across the bar. This may be due to the alcohol in everyone's system. Most of their beers are nearly finished, and some people are on their second or third drink.

I finally identify a small group: a pair of men in their late forties to early fifties, dressed nearly identically in solid-colored t-shirts and ball caps (one in all red, the other in all white,) and a man standing at the bend of the L wearing a white ten-gallon hat.

The pair in the ball caps sit next to each other talking and laughing, drinking slowly as if they don't intend to leave anytime soon. The man with the ten gallon hat occasionally meanders over to the man with the red cap and shows him a folded-up piece of paper. They speak rapidly in Spanish, appearing to discuss the contents. Cowboy Hat then returns to the more crowded group at the bend of the L and talks to them quietly, then returns to Red Cap and starts the process over again. Over time, I gather that they are placing bets on the game.

On the other end of the L, people are packed very closely together. Three or four men who appear to be Mexican-Americans don't speak much, but smile strangely as they drink, eyes a little unfocused. They seem to have been here for a while. Other people seat themselves around them, barely speaking to them.

Crammed against the wall on the other side of these four are a man and a woman both staring intently at the game. He wears a loose T-shirt and a worn baseball cap and keeps his hand on his beer. She is wearing a shirt with the name of the same football player as the one on the jersey of Mr Margarita. They are both talking to the players onscreen: he shouts uproariously; she speaks at a normal speaking range, as if the quarterback currently frustrating them both was right in front of her.

The Margarita Couple have begun flirting shamelessly beside the men in the matching outfits. Red Cap leaves the bar without noticing their antics, but when he returns, Mr Margarita kisses Ms Margarita, and Red Cap turns around uncomfortably, angling his chair sharply toward his friend. Soon after, Cowboy Hat returns to offer the sheet to Red Cap once more. Red Cap lifts his hand and laughs, refusing the paper.

"I already know I'm going to win," he says, to which Cowboy Hat does not answer except with a small smile. He returns to the bend of the L with an almost grim look, leaving me wondering exactly what the size and nature of the bet might be, that it is making him look so nervous.