Brain Teasers
Pool Party
Nora Shekrie walked into a bar ...
Well, it was the back room of the Sub Standard, the closest thing to an authentic pub in her home town. Like many bars, the Sub Standard decorated the walls with an eclectic mixture of nostalgic antiques (if you were willing to wait 30 years), sports memorabilia (if you didn't mind lithographic reproductions of 1950s posters), and pub paraphernalia. The last consisted of spare pieces to the darts set Junior Wehrman had busted up in a drunken fit one night, beer mats from various patrons' trips to the far reaches of the Earth (including one from New York, a whole time zone away), and a few worn-out tapper parts.
She held up two fingers, her signal for a pint of Rogue Shakespeare Stout, the second tap from the left. All in all, she mused, the ambience was about right; hints of the old and respected, the broken, the spare pieces with little use any more -- all in all, a lot like the owner and the patrons. Nora looked around, greeting a few friends with a raised eyebrow or a smile. Something seemed odd; nobody approached her, but they all seemed to be doing their best to watch her without being caught staring.
Nora checked to make sure her zippers were zipped, her hair was in place, her teeth had no food in them, and that the table and chairs weren't booby-trapped. Satisfied with her immediate environs, she continued looking around the room.
"Clarence," she called to the bartender, "I see you've added a few things to the walls."
"Got that one, you did. Took a couple down to make room for them, too."
"Really?" She looked again, more closely. "Well, the old Ty Cobb poster is finally gone, the one with the number on his back. The People's Beer stuff is down now; I hope you got a good price?"
He nodded, rubbing his fingers together. She went on. "I like the pre-pasteurization Coors stuff in its place. Where's the mushing harness from?"
"It's one Rachael Scdoris wore out training for last year's Iditarod. It seemed to fit." He finished drawing her pint and brought it to the table. "My cousin knows her father; it's autographed on one of the connectors ... in Braille ... on the side against the wall."
Nora laughed. "Fits the place." She took a long pull of the dark beer, looking around at the other walls. Looking far to her right, she noticed a recruiting poster for the Young Republicans, the old green-glassed railroad lantern, the photo of the high school football team with Clarence in the second row, a beaten-up life ring bearing the stenciled identification "U.S.S. Titanic" around the upper two-thirds of the circumference, and a photo of Don King and Muhammed Ali talking with Howard Cosell, all three mouths open at the same time.
Suddenly, her attention shifted; she started choking on her drink.
"Are you okay, Nora?"
"Mark the time!"
"What's wrong, Nora?"
Several people were talking at once. Now, everyone was looking at her, tensed, waiting.
She gave them a "thumbs-up" to show she was okay. After about half a minute, she cleared her airways enough to laugh.
"Okay, Clancy -- nice gag! Where'd you get it?"
"That depends; if you know which one it is, and I think you do, that pint and its replacement are on the house."
Nora explained the surprise that had made her choke.
"She's right," Clancy declared, "time, Fred?"
A burly man at the end of the bar held up his lap-timing wristwatch by the band. "From door to choke, three minutes, eight seconds. Who's closest?"
Nora's mouth dropped open. "You ran a POOL on how long it would take me to notice?"
"Yup," Clarence grinned, "and you're the first to get it all alone. Monette wins at 3:03."
What was the "planted" item?
Well, it was the back room of the Sub Standard, the closest thing to an authentic pub in her home town. Like many bars, the Sub Standard decorated the walls with an eclectic mixture of nostalgic antiques (if you were willing to wait 30 years), sports memorabilia (if you didn't mind lithographic reproductions of 1950s posters), and pub paraphernalia. The last consisted of spare pieces to the darts set Junior Wehrman had busted up in a drunken fit one night, beer mats from various patrons' trips to the far reaches of the Earth (including one from New York, a whole time zone away), and a few worn-out tapper parts.
She held up two fingers, her signal for a pint of Rogue Shakespeare Stout, the second tap from the left. All in all, she mused, the ambience was about right; hints of the old and respected, the broken, the spare pieces with little use any more -- all in all, a lot like the owner and the patrons. Nora looked around, greeting a few friends with a raised eyebrow or a smile. Something seemed odd; nobody approached her, but they all seemed to be doing their best to watch her without being caught staring.
Nora checked to make sure her zippers were zipped, her hair was in place, her teeth had no food in them, and that the table and chairs weren't booby-trapped. Satisfied with her immediate environs, she continued looking around the room.
"Clarence," she called to the bartender, "I see you've added a few things to the walls."
"Got that one, you did. Took a couple down to make room for them, too."
"Really?" She looked again, more closely. "Well, the old Ty Cobb poster is finally gone, the one with the number on his back. The People's Beer stuff is down now; I hope you got a good price?"
He nodded, rubbing his fingers together. She went on. "I like the pre-pasteurization Coors stuff in its place. Where's the mushing harness from?"
"It's one Rachael Scdoris wore out training for last year's Iditarod. It seemed to fit." He finished drawing her pint and brought it to the table. "My cousin knows her father; it's autographed on one of the connectors ... in Braille ... on the side against the wall."
Nora laughed. "Fits the place." She took a long pull of the dark beer, looking around at the other walls. Looking far to her right, she noticed a recruiting poster for the Young Republicans, the old green-glassed railroad lantern, the photo of the high school football team with Clarence in the second row, a beaten-up life ring bearing the stenciled identification "U.S.S. Titanic" around the upper two-thirds of the circumference, and a photo of Don King and Muhammed Ali talking with Howard Cosell, all three mouths open at the same time.
Suddenly, her attention shifted; she started choking on her drink.
"Are you okay, Nora?"
"Mark the time!"
"What's wrong, Nora?"
Several people were talking at once. Now, everyone was looking at her, tensed, waiting.
She gave them a "thumbs-up" to show she was okay. After about half a minute, she cleared her airways enough to laugh.
"Okay, Clancy -- nice gag! Where'd you get it?"
"That depends; if you know which one it is, and I think you do, that pint and its replacement are on the house."
Nora explained the surprise that had made her choke.
"She's right," Clancy declared, "time, Fred?"
A burly man at the end of the bar held up his lap-timing wristwatch by the band. "From door to choke, three minutes, eight seconds. Who's closest?"
Nora's mouth dropped open. "You ran a POOL on how long it would take me to notice?"
"Yup," Clarence grinned, "and you're the first to get it all alone. Monette wins at 3:03."
What was the "planted" item?
Answer
It's the life ring. The RMS Titanic was a British vessel, not US.For those who care about the other references ...
People's Beer is indeed a collectible brand. The Oshkosh brewery went out of business in 1972.
When Ty Cobb played baseball, there weren't any numbers on uniforms.
Rachael Scdoris is the blind Iditarod musher featured last year on National (USA) Public Radio.
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