Makes a swirling motion over my head, which apparently is some sort of code for I’m buying this girl a drink.
Takes a seat next to me, kindly leaving one barstool between us.
(And yes, I was alone, it was 3 p.m. on a Friday. I’m a teacher. It’s what I do.)
Pushes a business card across the bar with a little twist so it’s face up when it gets to me.
Says, “this is me.”
Makes me laugh.
Says, “well, I’m off to a good start because I made you laugh.”
–Actually, I was laughing at him.–
Points out the second line on the card which lists his profession as “drinker.”
–More laughter from me.–
Asks what I do.
Informs me that he barely graduated high school, reads at a sixth grade level, but that doesn’t matter because he hates to read.
Yammers on for fifteen minutes about I have no idea what.
Stares bewildered as I place my empty glass of beer on top of the ridiculous business card and walk out of the bar.
Notes to the universe:
- Never, ever, ever put your hand anywhere in the vicinity of over my head.
- If you’re over the age of 30, your business card should not list your profession as “drinker.”
- I’m a teacher. I love writing. I love reading. Don’t think that your illiteracy will be a point of connection.