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THE PRESSURE IS ON IN BUGILS BALI
 She
was crying quietly on her chair in
the far left corner of the bar. The
other people around were still
moaning in her direction. It was
busy. Many people had heard about
the weekly ‘Pressure Hour’ in
BuGils, and were lured by the free
beers. However, this time it had
only lasted for 3 minutes. Pressure
Hour means that free beers are
served until somebody, man or
woman, leaves the bar or goes to
the toilet. ‘I didn’t know it…’,
she sobbed. Her husband pointed a
finger angrily in her direction.
‘You f…ed it up!’ The cruelty was
complete. I had seen her once
dragging him out by his
ponytail, but now she was
the wounded puppy. ‘I came from
church, and had to go to the toilet
really urgent… Oh, I am so sorry…’,
she looked at me as if she was
asking for forgiveness. For me it
was only better that it ended so
quickly, costing me less.
Intimidated by the angrily
disappointed crowd, Widi asked me
if we shouldn’t continue the free
beer flow. I refused. ‘It’s the ‘konsekuensi’,
as they say here, Widi’.
 Then
this big ZZ Top kind of guy walked
in. The rough type with a red beard
and huge rings on all his fingers,
he looked like a Hell Angel, not
somebody you want to block in his
way. But he greeted me friendly
telling me he was dying for the
free beer after spending one hour
in the car. ‘Well, I have bad news
for you’, I said in a rather jovial
way. ‘They rang the bell already,
the Pressure Hour is over’. He
stopped on the spot. His face
turned grim. He approached me
slowly like a Clint Eastwood ready
for a duel, and ready to pull out
two guns from his hips. Now I
became nervous. He spoke soft and
slow. ‘You mean I came all the f…in
way from Nusa Dua for Pressure Hour
and I can get no free beer
anymore..?’ ‘Well, uh… ‘, I had to
quickly come up with a solution.
The bar was full, and all the
people were looking at me. It would
have been an embarrassment to been
kicked off of my own premises. He
was bowing slowly forward with his
fists coiled and I was not sure if
he was planning to hit me, or to
make a statement. I tried to
pretend it was all no problem, and
said: ‘No worries, my friend! I buy
you a few beers’. He slowly
straightened his back, combed his
fingers through his long red beard
and instantly became friendly.
‘Thank you. You are a good man. You
are leading an excellent pub,
mate.’ Widi nonchalant walked by
and proudly whispered: ‘Kata
orang Indonesia, Pak Bart pintar (clever)‘diplomasi’…’
Two
hours later he walked outside,
where I was sitting on the terrace.
He stretched his hand out to me,
and pulled my ear to his face. He
said something that I could not
understand, and then he quickly
left. He crossed the road to his
car. Once in his car, he stuck his
big red bearded face through the
car window, and started to yell
loudly in my direction. ‘YOU
BASTARD! YOU DAMN DUTCH MAN! YOU
MANAGED TO GET 400.000 OUT OF ME! I
AM GOING TO GET YOU, YOU FU...
BASTARD!’ He wanted me to look at
him and he hoped for a response,
but I ignored him. A full terrace
was watching. He tried to turn the
car on the road, creating traffic
chaos, with cars and busses
horning, while he kept on shouting
for my attention. He was furious.
‘’Emosi’ ya Bart, dia?’,
Widi asked, while looking at the
scene with four beers in her hands.
Apparently he had thought he could
drink for free and even give rounds
away, when I had offered him only a
‘few’ free beers, I explained to my
table. Widi was in thoughts for a
moment and then with a sigh of
relief concluded: ‘Ah,
miskommunikasi aja…’. All the
guests nodded.
This
afternoon there will be another
Pressure Hour in BuGils, starting
at 6pm. With some antisipasi,
some ko-ordinasi and a damn
good sense of humor, life in BuGils
land is getting better every day…
Bartele
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