Surprise Talk

Yesterday I had a good night. I wrote a joke that appeared in a comedy show I really like, I saw lots of great sketch and improv comedy, I had some gratifying conversations that entailed compliments about my hair, and I got to hang out with a number of my friends. I could and should address those things, and maybe I'll get to it tomorrow. The thing that just has to get out is the drunk I met on the trip home from the comedy theater.

I saw him walking along the subway train platform, and I hoped to avoid him. He was lugging an open case of beer which I later saw seemed to contain a liquor bottle and a soda bottle (which was possibly all or mostly liquor). There was no question of him merely transporting anything, as I could smell it on his breath. I was afraid to shake his hand, but I have a bad way of not saying no when I really want to, and off we went.


I was stunned to find him a tremendously engaging conversational partner. While the talk touched on his poor employment record and the likely fight he was facing with his dope-dealing girlfriend on the subject of his drunkenness (which, as he pointed out, was hypocritical), we spent as much time if not more talking about movies, which included the work of Oliver Stone (Platoon, Natural Born Killers, The Doors) and Frank Langella (Masters Of The Universe, Robot And Frank).

By the time the train had reached the end of the line, I was really enjoying talking with him, although I was uncertain of how to end it. At the outset, I'd anticipated just getting going real fast without a word, but now I felt as if I had to end it on some kind of friendly terms. I still also wanted to just end it fast and unceremoniously because I'm so awkward socially that I always feel that way, but this time I was torn. I continued to talk with him a while as we walked in the same direction from the train, only parting ways when he stopped to chat with a bouncer at a sports bar along the way. I just kept walking, but not without some regret.