The Night I Became a Psychic

I was 26, and my sister and I were regulars at Peggy O’Neil’s -a bar in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn where the crowd was a tiny bit rowdy but fun, and the fun never started until after 9 pm. Showing up early was for rookies. We preferred the crowded chaos.

It was a Saturday night, and we’d already had one drink when I told my sister I’d grab the next round. I spotted a sliver of space at the bar, rare as a cab in a snowstorm! I wedged myself in. The bartender was busier than a squirrel at a rave, darting around the opposite end of the bar, while I waited my turn to order drinks.

To my right were five guys, deep in a “what do you do for a living” icebreaker. One guy (let’s call him Joe) wasn’t standing directly next to me, but close enough that I could hear what everyone said, including Joe, proudly declaring, “I’m in the Merchant Marines!”  The bartender finally made it down my way, I ordered our drinks and missed some of their chat - but I did catch what they all ordered after me. That was enough.

I returned to my sister and said, “I’m about to do something funny.” She raised an eyebrow. I explained what I’d overheard and told her to follow me back toward the group. We stealthily inched closer until I could squeeze in next to Joe. I placed my drink on the bar, turned to him, and said, “Hi.”

He greeted me back with a smile (probably assuming I was going to hit on him), and then I asked, “So what are you guys talking about?” He said, “We’re telling each other what we do for work.” I grinned. “Oh cool. I bet I can guess what you do.” He looked intrigued. “I doubt it. What makes you so sure?” I leaned in and said, “Let’s just say... I have a gift.”

Now he was hooked. “Okay, big shot,” he said. “Go ahead. Tell me.” I looked him dead in the eye and said, “You’re a Merchant Marine.”

The look on his face? Pure disbelief. His jaw dropped. The other guys were stunned. One guy laughed nervously, and I turned to him and said, “What are you laughing at? You just got laid off yesterday.” He instantly shut up.

Another guy in the corner piped up, “Read me next!” I said, “You deliver mail.” He gasped. “How did you know?!” I replied, “I already told Joe- I have a gift!” The last guy said, “You will never guess what I am drinking?” I looked at him and smiled with confidence as I replied to him, “I can certainly tell you it’s disgusting -  you are drinking what they call “Smokers Cough” (a drink made with Jägermeister and mayonnaise). He nearly fell off his barstool!

They were convinced I had some kind of powerful gift. As I turned to walk away, Joe called out, “Don’t go! Tell us more! Can you read the future?” I laughed and said, “No, idiot - I overheard you all while I was ordering drinks.”

My sister and I burst out laughing and toasted to my brief career as a bar-side psychic. I never saw Joe again, but that moment set the tone for one of the most entertaining nights we ever had at Peggy O’Neil’s.

Bar-Side Psychic Rating Meter™

How convincing was my impromptu mind-reading act? Let’s break it down.

Category Rating out of 5 Notes Shock Factor 🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸 Joe’s face said it all - jaw dropped, eyes wide, full-body disbelief. Confidence Delivery 🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸 “Let’s just say, I have a gift.” Nailed the drama. Accuracy 🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸 Merchant Marine? Mail carrier? Laid off guy? All correct. Crowd Reaction 🍸🍸🍸🍸 Laughter, gasps, and a request for a future reading. Exit Line 🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸 “No, idiots - I overheard you.” Mic drop. Sister’s Approval 🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸 Laughed out loud. Mission accomplished. Repeatability 🍸🍸🍸 Only works if the bar’s loud and the guys are chatty. Final Score: 34 out of 35. Verdict: A legendary psychic cameo. No crystal ball required.