So Long Mr. Bill...

Image courtesy Yelp

"Wings," my favorite hangout in North Charleston South Carolina is no more. Too bad. It was just the kind of juky little joint that I love. Neighborhood characters, friendly bartenders, and good (if not good for you) food. Their chicken feather wrap was so good that I would order one to go and pick it up on the way to work when I was flying at night.

My best times at Wings occurred when my work schedule shifted from days to nights. After getting off duty at 6:30pm, and not due back until 6:30 the next evening, I had time to spend with my friends in low places. I needed to stay up late to help ease the shift change and Wings got better as it got later.

One of the most endearing features of the staff at the little bar and grill was their attention to how much alcohol one had consumed. If things got questionable April or Josh would announce that a ride home was in order (or no more drinks) and they would drive you themselves, in your own car, with another employee following to bring them back. That is real service. Today we have Uber, but back in the day, the house drove the drunk.

I met my friend Bert Hagen - veteran, retired Jax firefighter and one-time American Lafrance warranty representative -  at Wings. He left the firetruck company there and took a job with E-One in Ocala Florida. Now he is all the way retired, but he still holds court on Fridays at Bonefish Grill in Ocala. Ask for him there and they all know him, but that is a story for another day. I bring up Bert because he was a frequent guest of the "Wings Taxi Service." And I was myself a time or two. When I first met Bert, he was explaining the finer points to rapid-sequence-intubation (an EMS thing) to a couple of smoking-hot paramedic students. Of course, his interest in them was purely academic.

I also met Mr. Bill at Wings. Mr. Bill was a kindly old gent who came in for happy hour, drank his drinks, and loved to share stories. April took special care of Mr. Bill, as he was pretty much on his own. One day, while I was on duty on the medical helicopter in Charleston, April called to tell me that Mr. Bill was in Trident Hospital and she was worried about him. She had somehow become involved in an acute episode he was having, and I think she was the one that called 911. April was scared and asked me for help. I told her that I would go check on him as we were remote-siting our helicopter to Trident in those days. So, in flight-suit, I went and found Mr. Bill.

He looked pretty puny in his hospital bed, and I figured he was circling the drain. But his face lit up when I walked in. We told some jokes and I promised him the next round on me when he was able. The floor nurses took note that someone somewhere cared about this little alcoholic with a smile. Perhaps it made them treat him a little better. I hope so. The point I want to make here is that a young single-mom with a boat-load of her own problems - a bartender - was the last person to really care about Mr. Bill. And I guess in a certain way I loved her for that kindness. And her kindness to me.

So long Mr. Bill.

And April? Well, I hope her kids, now grown, work half as hard to give her a good life as she did to give them one.  They loved Disney World and she worked day and night to take them there. I also hope she is well, tending bar, and her customers are HUGE tippers.