The Towers

Wiping his large hands across the hem of his green apron, the bartender turned toward me and asked, "What'll it be, man?"

"Uh, can I get a ginger ale?" I asked hesitantly, climbing onto the vinyl stool. These places never had ginger ale at the bar.

"Tap's busted," he replied with a snort. "Gotta get it from the back. Kid!" he directed the order to the freckled bus-boy relining the trash can. "Run down to the dock and pick up a liter of ginger ale. Seven Up, too, while you're at it," he added gruffly as the scrawny kid ducked behind the bar and disappeared.
I idly twisted a straw between my fingers, the bartender again wiping his dry hands on his apron. It was stained, and fraying at the edges. As his broad back rotated toward me, an idea struck me. "Hey," I asked him, tapping his thick shoulder. He looked over at me through squinted eyelids, a startled expression on his face. "Hey, do you know what those big towers are for, you know, the ones with the red blinking lights on top?"

Standing still, he eyed me suspiciously. "Hell, what's wrong with you?" he asked slowly. "Yeah, pal, if they didn't have blinking lights, planes and helicopters would hit 'em." He stood for a moment as though considering his own response, then a knot of resolution slowly formed in his brow.

"Yeah, yeah. No, I mean the actual tower," I frantically waved my hands back and forth in front of him. "I mean what's it there for? What's it do?" I tried, searching for comprehension to reveal itself in his heavy features.

"Jesus," he exclaimed, raising his voice, "don't you listen? If it wasn't there, how would planes and stuff see it? Birds could hit it if it wasn't blinking, kid." I guess he called everyone younger than him "kid." "How old are you, kid?" he raised his eyebrow accusingly.

"I...just ordered a ginger ale," I protested, leaning back from the wooden counter. He shrugged, so I continued, "Okay, but if the tower weren't even there, no one would hit it, right?" I paused expectantly, raising my eyebrows and spreading my fingers in the air to demonstrate my innocence.

At that moment, the bus-boy returned from the back, saying quickly as he delivered the bottle, "Outta Seven Up; here's the ginger ale." He stepped back, cautiously weighing the scene: the bartender and customer stock still, watching each other. "Okay," he said after a moment, and vanished again to the back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped, seizing the ginger ale bottle by its neck and holding it in front of him. "It's been there for years; planes and birds flying around can see it. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?" He shook his head, but stood unmoving with the bottle.

"Never mind," I put in hurriedly, "I didn't mean to upset you. I just wondered what it does." Sitting back on the plush stool with a resigned sigh, I resumed my twisting of the straw as he unscrewed the green bottle.
Pouring the drink slowly into the tall, blue glass, the man finally interrupted the silence. "It does its job, that's what it does. I don't know about you crazy kids." A long moment passed without words. After securing the cap on the bottle, his hands automatically scrubbed the green apron, then clenched the bar rail. I gazed laconically at the carbonation dancing atop the beverage. "You can't just go around taking towers down." he told me soberly, as though dictating his lifetime doctrine across the bar. "You can't just take buildings down, right?" He paused thoughtfully, then added as though confidentially, "Birds could run into them, you know."

I mulled silently over his horribly injured paradigm, then looked up sharply. "Then why don't they have blinking lights?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he exploded, and several customers worriedly glanced at us. I attempted a disarming smile. "They don't need lights, kid. I mean they don't need them," he continued heedlessly. "Your house doesn't have blinking lights, does it? Mine doesn't! Jesus!" he exclaimed, turning away from me. With his back to me, he managed to say, "Buildings don't have blinking lights. That's what the towers are for."