Pool Tales Part Four - The Pool Hall
The pool hall was dark, and just wide enough for one row of six or seven tables. There were three large windows at one end. I don't remember how they covered them to block the light, but I know they did, because pool players were allergic to sunlight. Many found oxygen hard to deal with. They read the newspaper by tilting it toward the lights over a table. The newspaper was important back then. It carried important news that they discussed in the back room. They read the paper first thing in the morning, always seated on the same chair with their coffee. I don't know who assigned them their chairs, but they seemed to know where they belonged. They didn't talk in the morning. Their hair was slicked back, and their furrowed faces freshly washed and shaven, so I know they left the place at night. I found out later most lived alone in a hotel room. I'm glad I didn't know that back then. Even now I'm sorry I found out. It hurts somehow.
The old men didn't start shooting pool until late in the afternoon. Some days not at all. The rack man was old too, and although I never saw him take a drink, I never saw him sober. I am convinced he absorbed ambient alcohol fumes through his skin. He wore the rack on his head, and shuffled slowly from table to table, as if his hemorrhoids were about to fall out on the floor. He collected ten cents before racking the balls for a new game. He never asked for the money. He would just stand there waiting for you to realize you owed him something. I don't know if he could shoot pool, although I had the feeling finding out could prove expensive. The regulars tipped him well, and seemed to care.
One night, after I was old enough to play, I went to the pool hall with a couple of my friends. I had been to a novelty store earlier and bought some plastic vomit. It looked wet and realistic. Little chunks of stuff were embedded in a puddle of rubbery, translucent stomach juices. After a particular pool game, I placed the fake vomit on the table near a pocket and called the rack man over. When he arrived at the table I pointed to the vomit. He stared at it for a moment, turned and
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