Oct 19, 2006
12:20 PM
It's cold. I would really rather have a hot chocolate. I settle for a shot of blackberry brandy and a Miller Genuine Draft. It's Karaoke Night at CJ's, and I'm not ready to retire for the evening. I had just gone over the concept of carpe diem with a twenty-five year-old friend who is anxious over a situation, and I wasn't ready to let go of my own day. Besides, I wanted some human interaction, and I was having a good time. Even the off-key country songs were entertaining. I admire courage and ambition, even when the actor is a little delusional. That reminds me, I still haven't read Don Quixote, but I mean to.
It looks like everyone is having one more drink as closing time approaches. I decide to face another beer rather than the drizzling cold. The roll and burble of the collective conversation is as warm and reassuring as a hissing, crackling fireplace. Finally, the closing time lights come up, and the crowd begins to leak through the doors.
As I round the corner to the parking lot out back, a street-level dealer says something about whatever he's selling. All I can make out is, "... I got it right here." I just shoot him an annoyed look and head for my car door. The lady who runs the karaoke is loading something into her SUV, so I sit for a minute and watch over the dealer. He gets the hint. He walks off to the East, looking absently—here and there—for stuff on the ground.
The karaoke lady starts her Explorer and drives off to the front of the building to finish loading out, and I drive off to search for more windmills to tilt at.
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