Punkchu8

I had a ticket to another show that night, so I called myself just passing through. But by then, I was lost (I didn’t see a block party of any sort) and about to leave. You’re never more than 20 minutes away from a mall, right? I figured I’d waste the rest of the day walking the recycled air of retailers. I’d almost called it an afternoon when I heard him call my name.

Seriously?

I figure this guy knows a billion people – that’s not an exaggeration – he can’t pick me out on the sidewalk. But he did. That tickled me, but I didn’t want to laugh too hard. I think laughing too hard makes me look like Mrs. Buttersworth, all jolly and shit. He was exactly as I expected him to be, including how we looked eye to eye. I liked that. Equal footing, I say. He was handsome with a bouncy walk and a friendly demeanor. He spoke to everyone. I liked that too. I’m not much of a talker sometimes, but I can appreciate it.

Up the street. Down the street. Back where we started. Short street, but it took awhile. We looked at stuff, talked to people. But there seemed to be no party. When we got inside, we talked. I remember telling a friend later, that I’d never had a man look me in the eye so intently as I spoke. It made me uncomfortable, but only because it never happened before. He was really paying attention. Or he was really faking it. I don’t know, but I was quite impressed. He was animated and warm. Genuinely friendly. Slightly goofy. Good sense of humor. Very nice. And because I was having such a good time, a few hours into the night, I almost hated to excuse myself to the restroom.

I stared in to the mirror. I wanted to get away and I did. It was a good trip too. Lots of time to think and do whatever I wanted. I’d have to call it a success. I dug in my purse and pulled out the ticket. The show was at 9. It was 8. I had a choice to make. Do I ask him for directions to the other spot? I knew he’d know, this was his town. I mean, I hadn’t actually planned to say more than “Hi”. And there we were, listening to bands and joking around. I hadn’t actually planned to stay. But, as the poem goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men, oft go awry.” I stared at the ticket. I’d seen Van several times. It was always a good show. So why was I hesitating?

I probably won’t ever know the answer to that, because I didn’t let myself get that far. I tore the ticket in two. I threw it away. When I got back to the table, he was there smiling. (Okay, maybe he was wincing in pain. That’s another story for another day.) Sometimes, better plans fall into your lap.

He’s a nice guy.