On the way home from Saturday lunch out, we made an extraordinary discovery. Someone had the gall to open what looked like a respectable pub just a few miles from out home. After an interminably long week of waiting to experience the Kingshead Pub, the time had come, so we packed up the Fat Cats – our darts, dart accessories, and their case, and hied ourselves over for a pint.
Now, we had no idea whether the Kingshead had dartboards or not, but upon making our grand entrance, Tammy said, Look. I raised my eyes to meet the vision of two unsullied, gleaming dart boards, in a sea of dark woods and soft light, straight ahead. This had potential.
At times we are not so stupid, so prior to our first visit we went online to thoroughly inspect their beer menu. Although it was no surprise when we arrived, that they had beers we loved, it was still heartening to see they were not liars. With high spirits, fine IPAs, and darts, the evening began.
Louie The Lip
Not half way through our first game of Cricket, we were accosted by a patron. I say accosted because although we fully expect to have conversation with strangers at a pub, we do not expect unsolicited lessons in dart technique. Wearing a conspicuous corno or Italian horn necklace, this olive-skinned, stout and gregarious 60+ charmer made it his mission to assist us in becoming better dart players.
No, you’re bringing your hand too high. You throw too hard. Look, like this. He demonstrates with head slightly cocked back and to the right, throwing hand coming out from under his chin and left hand hanging dead beside him. Oddly graceful and a tad disturbing, yet effective.
And it goes right where you want. Go ahead. Try it.
He was politely thanked and we set to employing his teachings while he returned to the board next to ours by himself, nearest the bar. We figured that would be the end of it. But he continued to monitor and occasionally tweak our form. Louie had trouble concealing his dismay at Tammy’s stutter-jump release.
Don’t do this. He mimicked my wife’s hop just before the dart left her hand, then energetically and annoyingly repeated himself several times to be sure we understood.
Shoot with your wrist. Don’t cock your arm. Look. Let me show you. He puts his left hand on my back and his right under my throwing elbow making my bicep parallel with the floor. I uncharacteristically allowed several repetitions of this procedure to meet his satisfaction.
Next, he had us try his special English darts. They were stubby and appeared to be cheaply made, like the rental darts available at most bars. But the weighted, brass tips, light-weight barrel and shaft and flexible flights made for balanced and accurate throwing. Hysterically and as a bonus, he instructed us on how to place the darts in their carrying case. Amazing.
Admittedly, my thoughts were consumed with the fact that we only do this once a week and I didn’t want a Louie The Lip dart lesson on our Saturday night celebration. In fact, I am sure I had more than one homicidal fantasy during the whole affair. We’ve been back to the Kingshead since and although I am grateful for improved dart technique, I was untroubled by Louie’s absence and his lingering at the dart boards. And what totally blew our minds was that we had no trouble at all taking the darts from or returning them to their case.
We invite you to share in comments your experiences and wisdom on how to handle overly forward people.
Jolly Good People, Posts and Ideas
Shanna Mann’s Change Catalyst offers hard-core strategies for personal change and development. She certainly could have learned me how to deal with Louie The Lip, but she is busy composing stellar posts while running her coaching and consulting business. One could also benefit from reading her Your Next Six Months (Forever), a tour de force on systems to help you design a life where you are the boss of your future.