It is a cold world. Literally.
I cannot even begin to count the number of times I’ve stepped into a bar and seen a group of guys that I possibly considered approaching until a Khaleesi of sorts laid her eyes on me and gave me the death stare as if I was encroaching and overstepping my boundaries. It does not take long before I get the general hint and realize that even though at the moment she has no connection to any of these men, she still views them as her potential pool of future Khals/lovers. Since I am well aware that hell hath no fury like a woman on fire, I realize that seducing one of them is most definitely out of the question and quickly back down given that I am not flame retardant and all.
Then there are the White Walkers. You know those guys and gals who do not know when to give up and who cannot take a hint. Despite the numerous times that you can escape, they still come in hot and take a stab at you as if your latest flight was not already a triumph. Before you know it, you find yourself crawling over a what feels like a million different obstacles trying to escape finding shelter within the dark crevices of the bar where no one dares to go. After your heroic escape, you eventually realize that you can not spend the rest of your life in a deserted corner and accept that you have been marked and will in time have to face them and set out into the open world once again.
So, of course, no drinking establishment would be complete without a bunch of Lannister’s. You know the well dressed rich f*#ks that are raging at their table and basking in all their glory with unlimited amounts of alcohol. The entitled douche lords and ladies of the world. As much as I would like to hate them, I cannot help but admire them for the simple fact that they always seem to be enjoying themselves to the fullest and manage to find a way out of any mess. It does not matter how much they irk you; you have to admit that their mind games are quite impressive.
Also last but not least you have to love the Free Folk. You know what I’m talkin’ about Willis! The girls and guys who get so turnt, the Wildlings, who do not give a shit about what you think of them or their drinking habits. They are my favorite. They do not judge. They just do the do. They march to the beat of only their own drum and although there are times when the men get too drunk, petty, and squabble they are for the most part great people to be around and a lot of fun.
So the next time you are sad over the fact that you can not be a real life character in Game of Thrones, do me a favor step into your favorite local bar and take a moment to observe, reassess, and appreciate your lovely and existing presence in the known world. It is pretty great.
Actually in writing this I’ve come to realize that I am somewhat of a Jon Snow character myself. You know, one of “those people” at the bar that drinks as if it is my last day on earth. To the point of total incapacitation where people begin to question if I might be dead.
Thankfully a Red Priestess or Lord uses magic aka one of my friends does a ritual of sorts and does this crazy thing where they force feed me water and BAM…Resurrection complete. Shortly after my revival I always ask the most important question of the day/night which is, “Shall we do another round of shots?”