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Diary Segment: 2008, March 01-15

Entries are shown in chronological order; scroll down to see later material.

Mar 07, 2008

Never, NEVER mess with me when I'm reading Charles Dickens. Likewise, never, NEVER EVER mess with me while I'm drinking. Especially not now, since I'm on a nutrition plan that forbids the marathon drinking sessions we used to enjoy.

This evening I celebrated surviving another week at work by having a beer and a hamburger at a local bar. Of course, I had my iPhone and I was reading Nicholas Nickleby from Project Gutenberg. Now, just getting into this bar had been a bit annoying - there were two guys outside smoking (one older guy about 60, one younger guy about 35), and since it is raining right now, they were blocking the door. I had to squeeze and sidle past them. As soon as I reached the bar, I heard a loud woman complaining about those two guys and how "this gentleman" (pointing to me) had had a hard time getting in.

Whatever. At 7:30pm on a Friday, this bar always has a few irritations in it. I'll set the color of the evening by explaining that the guy talking to, and presumably dating, Loud Woman was complaining bitterly that his company's HR department had ordered him to attend compulsory sensitivity training in Pelham, and sexual harrassment training in-house, just because he'd "squeezed that secretary's ass and told her to get off the phone to her boyfriend because [he] needed a letter typed".

Reading pleasantly away and doing my best to ignore these idiots, I had just reached the point where Nicholas starts to befriend Smikes, when I realized that the older door-blocker guy was staring at my plate. I stared back at him, then - I couldn't help myself - I said, "Excuse me sir; it would bring me to the penultimate height of ecstasy to be afforded the opportunity to purchase you a hamburger exactly resembling my own in all nutritional and gustatory respects. It would further elevate me to the very pinnacle of earthly delight if you would enjoy this obligation-free repast at leisure from the far end of the bar, since it pleases me not to be observed so closely while I dine".

(You can probably tell that, unfortunately, I wasn't drunk). Naturally, Old Guy didn't understand more than a word or two of this, but at least he stopped staring for a little while. He seems to know a lot of people in the neighborhood, because two other men came in and bought him drinks.

I ordered a second beer as a special treat, and got back down to reading, when Old Guy turned back to me and started taking an interest in the iPhone. He said something that I didn't catch - and didn't really care about - then finished the sentence with, "... I can't even turn on my computer".

Keeping the entire remainder of my body perfectly stationary, I swiveled my head towards him, replied "It empathetically distresses me to learn that the twentieth century has passed and left you behind with the other flotsam. It must be quite inconvenient. However, there is little I could do about the matter, even supposing I were inclined to act on your behalf." - I turned my head back to the phone, and continued reading. At this time, my second beer arrived. Old Guy was still trying to digest what I'd just said. He spent about 30 seconds mulling it over, then started to drivel some further inanity. Instantly, I grabbed my beer, said to him, "I have no interest in conversation at this time", simultaneously waved the waitress over for the check, and drained an entire pint of Stella in a single mouthful (close to a personal best effort, I might add). While I was signing the credit card receipt, Old Guy was saying "Excuuu-uuu-uuuuuu-uuuuuuuse me!" in various tones.

I came home to a houseful of snoring terriers, and decided that curling up with them in a heap of blankets looked like a good suggestion to me.