Brandon and I try to go out by ourselves every Saturday. To be honest, I get a little pissy if we can’t. Lately, we haven’t been able to (a combination of our normal sitter’s ramped-up social life and our own laziness at finding a back-up) and I have been increasingly pissy about it. I literally don’t get out much. I work at home. It’s only the need for groceries and beer that keeps me from being a shut-in.
We had a sitter this Saturday, and humanity did not disappoint. At one bar, we got to witness a reunion of two men who both had that stoner laugh (heh heh heh heh heh). Damn, they must have missed each other. They hugged and hugged and hugged. One of them was named Stewey. I know this because whenever Stewey would leave the room (and we had our suspicions about where he was, heh heh heh heh heh) and then return, the other guy would yell, “Stewey!!!” and the mutual manhandling would begin anew.
It was a joyous thing to witness and I’m not even kidding.
On the down side, there was also an older woman, missing some teeth, nursing PBRs that she drank with a straw and paid for with change. She was waiting for her son. I know this because she pulled out a Christmas ornament with his picture on it and showed it to people. She kept asking the time. She borrowed a cell phone to call him. When we left, he still hadn’t shown. It broke my heart, a little.
I don’t know if it’s some voyeuristic thing that makes me like going out in public places like this, or just some Bowling Alone drive. As for us, we were the couple who started off discussing how restaurants shouldn’t seat people if they don’t have enough wait staff to handle it. Which had just happened to us, and we wound up leaving before getting a drink.
“We got the silverware dirty, and now they have to swap that out,” Brandon said.
“Yeah, I licked all of mine,” I said.
“I put mine down my pants,” Brandon said.
It devolved from there.