A Simple Dinner

I went out to dinner with a friend. We only get together a couple of times a year so the meeting is jammed packed. We talk shop bullshit (he’s a network news cameraman), work bullshit, then the bullshit bullshit that piles up in life.

We entered a small local restaurant we both like and I noticed right away the place was lousy with politicians and politicos from both sides of the moat. I didn’t know why so many were here. It must be Free Graft Night. I said hi to those I’m supposed to and even a couple I actually like. All in all a fairly painless event.

We’re seated near the back and my friend sits with his back to the crowd. We start talking about the shoots we’ve been doing then we get up to upcoming shoots.

“So,” I ask. “What’s up with you this week?”

“Urugh.” He responds. “I’ve got to go shoot the president.”

Unbeknownst to him, EVERY head in the room spun to memorize a description of this potential assassin. I see it and laugh.

“Don’t worry, everyone.” I calm the throng. “He’s not a hired killer, he’s a news cameraman.”

That seemed to assuage them.

But I did see someone fumbling with a camera phone.

Better to be safe, I guess.

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