beer and bratwurst
…We find some empty seats and I volunteer to save them while Tooth and Ratcliffe go order our food. It’s amazing how small decisions can change what happens next. I’m sitting there enjoying my giant beer and pretending to text so I don’t look like a complete loser (you know you do it) when a guy and girl take a seat at the table. After a only a couple of minutes it’s obvious they are on a first date…typical getting to know you questions like “where are you from?” I hear the guy say he lives in Cedar Grove. Now, I’m usually not one to butt into conversations, unless I’m drinking, which is kind of often, so maybe I am one to butt in…anyway it’s not every day you hear someone say they are from Cedar Grove. So I look away from my fake text and pardon my interruption, but “I grew up in Cedar Grove.” The guy looks less than enthused about my sharing this information, but I continue intruding, asking him where in town he lives, explaining to him where I lived. The girl meanwhile is notably amused by this and actually stirs the pot by asking if we went to high school together. Turns out we do, but he is two years younger and when I don’t recognize his name, he admits he was sort of an outcast and didn’t have many friends in school. Who says that in front of a girl on a first date, honestly? Figuring I’ve done enough damage, I apologize again for the intrusion, to which the guy, probably regretting the “no friends” comment, half smiles and responds something like, “It’s cool, but I’m gonna have to cut you off.” This guy. I don’t think I’ve ever been cut off from a conversation before…what is this a presidential debate? Did my allotted time run out? No way I let this go, I had to get the last laugh. So a few seconds later he asks the chick where she lives now. Before she even opens her mouth, I turn back to him and say, “I live in Caldwell.” Girl laughs, guy is speechless, I assure him it’s the last time I’ll interrupt. The moral of the story is: Talk to random people, tactfully, and you’ll have some good stories to tell…you never know who you’ll meet…
i love the fact that my close friends in real life are getting on the train; starting to blog/tweet, etc. how come? they recount great stories from when we go out. this was a big-time classic. to boot, the guy’s shirt was definitely a result of some low-level designer at express who found a rug from 1974 and wanted to make a shirt out of it.
