Over the past few days I’ve been rubbing elbows with the drunks and pill poppers at the Long Beach Airport bar for a feature writing class I recently wrapped up. The following profile is a result of my research.

Nearly every Sunday night for the last two years, Candace Courtis has had the same nightmare.

She’s standing behind a winding, marble-topped counter, surrounded by bottles, in a confining, brightly lit area, while an insatiable sea of people bark drink orders at her. Try as she might, the demand for drinks overwhelms Courtis, 24, and her body fills up with anxiety. She wakes up worried, and it takes her nearly 45 minutes to recover.

While Courtis’ dream may recall shades of Sisyphus, it’s also a fairly accurate representation of a Friday night at the Prop Room, located on the second floor of the Long Beach Airport main terminal, where she’s tended bar for the last two years.

Despite the nightmares and the occupational hazards, Courtis loves her job. A pert blonde with an oval shaped face and square black glasses, her personality—stuck permanently on ebullient—is perfectly suited to bartending.

Over the past two years, the bar has become an unwavering source of entertainment, education, harassment, money, and, when needed, prescription pills.

“I got up at 6:15 this morning and wanted to punch babies,” Courtis said on a Monday afternoon near the end of her shift, “and I love babies.”

Courtis is a devout night owl. She regularly drifts off to slumber between 2 and 4 in the morning, unless, like today, her job requires she come in at the early hour of 8 a.m. Most days she doesn’t start work until 3 p.m., and regularly sleeps until noon.

Not only does Courtis’ job provide her with an accommodating schedule, but also discounted meals.

Mexican Cat Food

“This is my weird cole slaw,” said Courtis to a red-faced man at the bar whose sunglasses are perched on his forehead. “There’s some Tapatío, a shot of lemon juice, vinegar, and salt and pepper in there.”

The cabbage has turned a deep shade of rust, and the piercing smell of vinegar can be detected from five feet away.

Before becoming a bartender, Courtis worked as a server for six months at the Prop Room. As a result, she became supremely intimate—and bored—with all the items on the menu. Courtis began concocting her own creations, which she dubbed simply “weird food.” While there is no strict definition, most of these meals are made up of unlikely or contrasting elements, and, oftentimes, a liberal amount of Tapatío, a water-based hot sauce that Courtis swears by.

This past spring, Courtis became obsessed with a dish consisting solely of tuna fish and enough Tapatío to turn the meat red. She christened it “Mexican cat food.”

“I used to eat that three times a week, straight out of the can with a fork,” said Courtis.

Over time, the kitchen staff has come to expect her eccentric requests. Courtis speaks exclusively in Spanish—she’s almost fluent—to the chefs, and jokes with them constantly.

“They love me,” said Courtis. “They’ll basically make anything I want.”

Courtis’ recent obsession though, is neither weird, nor contains a touch of Tapatío. In fact, it’s actually quite ingenious.

Courtis requested a zucchini be cut in half and hollowed out, then filled with marinara sauce and topped with parmesan cheese. The stuffed vegetable was then baked until the cheese turned a golden brown. It quickly became one of Courtis’ favorite meals, and she began thinking about it constantly.

“I tried making it at home in the microwave, but it wasn’t as good,” Courtis said.

The Klutz

Among her friends, Courtis is known as “The Klutz,” a nickname that she begrudgingly admits is well deserved. While she’d rather have a different title, it’s not quite as embarrassing as “The Wind,” the name given to a friend known for his frequent farting.

Courtis is constantly bumping up against cabinets and fixtures, amassing a collection of bruises in the process. Her most painful episode to date though, involved the receipt holder. A metal spike about three inches long, resembling a perpendicular nail, the receipt holder is where every bill is impaled after being paid.

While animatedly telling a story, Courtis accidentally brought her elbow down hard on the receipt stabber. The metal punctured her flesh and went in deep. She had to get a tetanus shot and take two different antibiotics to deal with the aftermath.

“I should live in a bubble,” said Courtis. “I break something nearly every day.”

Two days later, while holding a wine glass, her finger slips and the glass shatters. Courtis makes a quick joke about it, and begins sweeping up the glass. As she deftly cleans up the shattered pieces, it is obvious that she’s done this before, and, judging by the look on her face, she is neither embarrassed nor surprised. At this point, it’s simply part of the job.

Fear of Flying

The vast majority of patrons at the Prop Room bar are there to kill time between cancelled flights, or because they’re bored, or they want to get drunk, or any other reason that people go to regular bars. But then there’s another group, one that Courtis estimates is about 20 percent of the business, who drink to deal with their fear of flying.

Josh Anfang, a fellow Prop Room bartender who wields his specially ordered bottle opener like an experienced gunslinger, agrees with Courtis’ assessment. “They need that liquid courage. I’ve seen 90-year-old women order a shot of Jack Daniels and a beer because they didn’t want to fly.”

The two empty Coronas lined up in front of Amy Choukourian are a testament to her dislike of air travel. “I like to be able to sleep on the flight,” said Choukourian, a Chicago resident who says the alcohol facilitates sleep.

Courtis on the other hand, has no fear of flying, and travels often. Courtis’ mother is, in fact, a travel agent, and books all her flights. In exchange for ridiculously low airfare, Courtis regularly distributes her mother’s business card at the Prop Room. A recent trip to Fiji, New Caledonia, and Australia, involving six different flights, only ran Courtis 900 dollars.

The flight to Fiji, an 18 hour long journey, was made bearable by the Ambien Courtis scored from one of her regular customers.

“It was great,” said Courtis. “I wouldn’t recommend it for short flights, but I was out for a good 12 hours.”

She brought back a number of different currencies, which are now taped proudly to a pillar in the bar and invite conversation.

The G.A.S. Factor

“My biggest pet peeve is when I ask someone how they’re doing and they say ‘Sam Adams,’” said Courtis. “I’ll say, ‘No, really, how are you?’ and stand there until they answer me.”

Courtis is bothered by the lack of acknowledgement, but what annoys her most is that she is not just asking to be polite or to make conversation. She genuinely wants to know.

Courtis is unabashedly herself around her customers. Unless they’re on the phone, she’ll engage them in conversation, read their horoscope, or extract some bit of information that makes the time pass more quickly. In short order, Courtis is able to foster the sense that it’s her and the customer’s job to have a good time before the flight. They know she’s on their team within the first few minutes of meeting her.

Last week, a woman came in and started drinking quickly. After two glasses, her eyelids began to droop, and she looked ready to go to sleep—the one thing a customer can’t do at the bar. She returned later, still visibly sleepy, and wanted another drink.

Courtis warned the woman that if airport security could detect she was drunk, then she would not be allowed to fly.

“She started to get all paranoid and kept asking me if her breath was ok,” said Courtis. “I almost felt bad for saying something, but I’m on her side. I wanted her to catch her flight.”

Rick Dale, a computer storage salesman from Arizona working on his second tall glass of beer, described Courtis’ appeal with an anagram. “She has g.a.s. factor. She gives a shit. I would offer her a sales job right now, regardless of her knowledge of the product.”

For Courtis, the praise is not uncommon. She receives at least one job offer a week, which she always turns down.

“I’m not business minded,” said Courtis, “I’m social service minded.”

Then, to a bar full of salesmen, Courtis said, “I couldn’t sleep at night if I worked sales.”

Courtis has other plans, and they involve teaching children. She is currently enrolled in the apple program at Cal State Fullerton, which allows her to earn a degree and teaching credential at the same time. She wants to teach first or second grade because she believes the children are still “moldable.”

“They don’t have any attitude yet,” Courtis said. “I feel like I could make a difference.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 24th, 2007 at 1:01 pm and is filed under general. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.