Ficstructor
I usually only get cornered by one of these dudes or dudettes, but this time there were many more and no way to seclude myself. Usually I can survive the onslaught of CV-dropping by joking about my lack of success and saying things like, “it’s temporary, man,” or “yeah, no shit, right? you really DO only need a high school diploma to do what I do.” Ha ha! Snort Snort! Put out the laid back vibe. Assure everyone my circumstances were partly a conscious choice to avoid responsibilities. And never, ever admit to the fact that the vibe is all bullshit. The table was full, though. It was a bespectacled crowd with either straight-cut bangs or well-considered facial hair. One man was wearing cowboy boots. I wanted to wear my cowboy boots, but my wife said that when I wear my cowboy boots I can’t control myself. Which is true. I have a tendency to drink four times the amount of an average man and end up in an alley puking my face off all because I wore my boots. Introductions were ignored. No space was made for me to sit down, so I groaned a table across the patio to be near these folks. Conversations halted when I sat. No one said hello. I said hi to the one person who made eye contact with me, and she looked back at me, confused, then turned to speak with someone else Eventually, the waiter came, asked for an order. No one spoke. The waiter asked, “Are you guys ignoring me?” Thinking everyone was on the same page, I refused the waiter’s request because late-night happy hour was 15 minutes away, but then the dude wearing a beret (or, fuck, something like a beret) ordered a second bottle of white wine for himself. Everyone else ordered tidy little 133 135