It’s Tuesday. A normal day would have meant me getting home before 5, maybe a meditation, maybe a home cooked meal, probably a Jon Stewart rerun, some reading, etc.
Today I was given some free tickets to a fashion show put on by . . . it doesn’t matter. It was a yuppie event for yuppies by yuppies. It was the kind of thing I used to go to years ago. They had a silent auction for various prizes (dinner, teeth whitening, wine, makeup, personal shopping experiences), free food and booze and a fashion show. Dave and I put on our shiny clothes and went.
Afterward he said, “This is fun, but I really feel like I don’t belong here. I mean, I’d come back to something else like this . . . but only as a photographer.”
On the plus side, the goody bag included a bottle of wine and 3 Laura Mercier lipsticks! Score!
Since we were hungry, we went to the Flying Saucer for dinner and beer. We played Dave’s favorite game, Spot The Mexican. Nobody won, there weren’t any. Jen’s Racist Comment for the Day: “It’s not really fair playing this game here- on the main television they’re showing basketball, not soccer.” Funny trumps racist!
As we were waiting to get our check, we heard a glass break and turned to see a guy leaving, his face with streams of blood running down. His (ex?) girlfriend chased after him screaming with that panic near-shriek in it, “Wait!! Come back!” He didn’t. He dripped blood out the door. The people at the table near him said he’d cracked his beer glass over his own head.
The (ex?) couple had been passing notes, we read them because we have no respect for other people’s privacy and dignity. Okay, that’s not true, but if you’re going to pass notes and then BREAK A GLASS OVER YOUR HEAD IN PUBLIC AND BLEED OUT THE DOOR, I might take a peek at the notes you passed. It looked like someone had been seeing someone else and the other party was asking about the level of intimacy those 2 might have shared. I felt like I was reading it on PostSecret.
When we left and headed to our car an ambulance was in the middle of the road, but the attendants were treating the guy on the sidewalk. Police were questioning the girl. There was a considerable amount of blood on the ground.
And that’s all I got for that story. I mention it because they were our age, maybe same tax bracket. Maybe a couple we’d pass at Whole Foods or Brasil. And I don’t know the details, but I think the girl should leave him, and FAST. Though it appears she has already.
