. . .minding my own business things go, if not actually wrong, at least weird.
I met with a friend for a beer. We hadn’t seen each other in some time so we’re sippin’ and chattin’. This girl, mid-20’s maybe late, is trying to get everyone’s attention. And doing a pretty good job of it. I think attention grabber #1 is gyrating in a dive bar. #2 would be, well, after #1 you don’t need #2 (but, if you must know, #2 is screaming, ‘This is the best song EVA!!!!!’ at the top of your lungs to every song).
But she has to get everyone’s attention and, sadly, includes us. She comes sashaying down the bar. I can see her reflection in the mirror and notice that, after each revolution, she casts a coquettish glimpse in our general direction.
And she’s not quite getting her needed response.
She arrives at her destination and settles between us. We look at each other, knowing this was an inevitability, and nod our silent greeting at her. She starts telling us how great a time she’s having and how everyone is so friendly.
Turns out, almost everyone.
Sensing this she puts on her full thrust and starts to move and tell us about herself. She likes Chaucer and lively debates about the crumbling infrastructure of our highways and byways.
No! I’m such a kidder! And, as it turns out, not a good listener of certain vocal ranges. Of which she owned.
But gamy, I mean, gamely she pushed forward with one last burst.
“But I’m just a regular girl. I like to drink beer in my underwear.”
“Why do you keep beer in your underwear?” I ask to, if you must know, a girl having just a little less fun right now.