"What are you passionate about?"
I anticipate that I will be speechless, but before I am silenced, I am interrupted by the sound of my own voice:
"Figuring out what I'm passionate about."
He smiles (sadly?) and says,
"Well, that's my hope for you, then. That you figure that out."
This song is haunting me. It's a conversation, too.
"Conversation 16" - The National
At a bar in Hoboken, NJ on Friday night, we were out for our friend's engagement party. She works with only guys, who call her "The Big Show", and they were all out with us. So when my feet hurt, I posted up at a table underneath the AC unit, and The Big Show and I chatted over the music while our friends danced, brought us drinks, came to talk to us, put their bags down, pick up their own drinks, etc.
Apparently all of this activity REALLY bothered an outspoken flamboyant young man who approached The Big Show and myself, looked us up and down and said,
"Why is there a rotating line of guys coming up to talk to you? Neither of you are THAT cute.""EXCUSE ME?!" I shrieked.
My finger went a-pointing and a-waving in his smug face as I very calmly informed him how the gentlemen were with us, they were friends of ours, and what's more, he needed to turn around and walk away and that his unkindness was not welcome anywhere in my vicinity. I think I was too surprised to be anything other than totally honest and taken aback, so nothing clever was spit at him.
I felt very New Jersey, however, telling him to "Walk away. Seriously. Just walk away. You don't know me. Turn around, and walk away."
Another girlfriend had some words with him at the bar, I guess, because within minutes he delivered apology shots to the table. He still wasn't nice, but, a shot's a shot, so I took it.
Lessons learned in New Jersey:
1. Twisted Tea gives you a hangover before a buzz.
2. Hoboken bar life is a lot like Eugene. I felt like I was at Taylor's.
3. No one cares about the Mariner game on in the corner of the bar, even when you excitedly rejoice that they (shockingly) won.