Him Again

Yesterday I had a busy day. It started with improv practice, continued with a screening of "The Ice Pirates" on VHS in the company of a friend, and concluded with an improv show feature the team of a a friend as well as two other great teams. When I parted ways with the last of my friend, I went to the grocery store to find something to eat. As there was nothing there I wanted, I went to the Subway and saw someone I didn't expect.

I had written the other day about that drunk I talked with on the way home from another improv show. Even though I knew he lived in the neighborhood, I figured I'd seen the last of him. There he was though, seemingly engaged in some kind of mildly hostile exchange with an employee. You'll remember that I found myself enjoying the aforementioned conversation in spite of myself. Ours was not a contentious talk.

Still, I did not attempt to prolong our companionship, and when he paused to talk to somebody else, I kept moving. I think he could not have been interesting enough for me to forget what he was and form some kind of lasting bond. For that reason, I desperately hoped that he would not see me, that he would not recognize me, or that at the very least he would be good enough to ignore me if he did see me and recognize me.

I feared it was too much to hope for. It was a small restaurant, and he seemed the type to cling to anyone and anything that would tolerate him. I am, to my own chagrin, nothing but tolerant of even such an irritant. If he had tried to renew our earlier chat, I would probably have begrudgingly obliged. Luck was with me, however, and he seemed never to see me. I obviously did not draw his attention to me, and we both went on in diverging directions.