August 16, 2008

the catch is in the breath, the hitch in your pants

"I don't know, man. What's the verd?" B asks and S and I.
"Dude. That dancing. He needs to be our new best friend!" I concur.

B considers for a moment. She takes a stray bic pen from the counter and scribbles on a coaster before handing it to the DJ. He is wearing white plastic-framed sunglasses even though it is nighttime and we are in a dimly lit bar. They strike up animated conversation and S and I exchange raised brows. It all hangs in the next song. The DJ is a skinny Caucasian male with unruly curls and a snug bright blue t-shirt. He plays funk and it is clear from his frantic clapping and dancing and shaking of the egg-shaker that the rhythm has clearly got him.
I cannot stop staring. I am mesmerized. No one in the bar is dancing, let alone standing, but this man commands those turntables like he's orchestrating his own personal Mardi Gras.
His free-spiritedness and vigor earn a place in my heart and I am filled with inspiration and awe.

Eventually he switches his shades off and by the looks of his eyes, he's got to be at least four score and ten. B tells him her name is Lux and he affectionately dubs her "Luuuu!" After we leave and scamper down towards Metropolitan, B cannot contain herself.

"Oh my God, that dude was like 47 and he hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro!"
"Dag, I thought he looked kinda crunchy," S considers.
Whatever. He's still the best dancer/DJ I've seen, I say.

We return to our former haunt and it's even more crowded but doesn't smell like wet wool and urine as much. We grab seats and B demands cheeseballs. Loudly and increasingly more vehement. A man tosses a Blow Pop at her and she bellows, "This will suffice for now!"

As soon as I get up to brave the bathroom line, I look back and S is already engrossed in a game of Connect 4 with the guys sitting next to us. Damn, I think. They move fast. She looks like she's having fun. Home girl better keep up, I say to myself.
I spy a cowboy. The tan plaid with pearlized snap buttons tucked into frayed boot-cut jeans scream cowboy and I can't help but smile at him. Since B is being hawked by apparently the kickball team of Williamsburg and S has now been dubbed S50 as she blows away her competition at Buck Shot, I am left to my own devices. Someone puts Detlef Schrempf on the jukebox and it reminds me of the last mix I made for someone and the last time I probably will make a mix for anyone, let alone a male anyone. It's a sign for sure.
B yelps, "Oh man, this song reminds me of making out!" I sympathize. And then I make nice with a cowboy.

One stop later and B takes us on a quest to see her slack suitor. We go to some place that resembles a pool deck and there's a truck selling tacos. It is very populated. I spend a disordinate amount of time thinking I vaguely recognize everyone but that can't be because everyone here has got to be at least 27. S alerts me that I've got an audience, some keen-eyed gent in a kelly green windbreaker. If this were a dime novel, an apt synonym would be a "smoldering gaze."
I don't know how I feel about this. It is really intense. His friend's toting a skateboard and I can't be bothered. 6 glances later and I have been smoldered to relent.
The boy who's been trailing S since our last locale pushes me into him. "Dooooo it," he goads me on, elbowing me. It feels very awkward and looks very awkward.
"Nice jacket," I say. Greencoat informs me that I'm wearing a tri-blend scrimmage tee. "Good eye," I reply. Turns out he works for American Apparel. This could turn into a win-win, I think to myself.

When the night shuts down, we make our way to B's apartment and I gather my things. Softy comes along and I pull B aside to assess. I give him the "I've got my eye on you" hand motion and he looks confused. He knows what I mean.

I still don't understand how that girl can go to bed at 5am and wake up at 10, call me and demand breakfast conferences. S and I head to the Bagel store and meet her. Afterwards, B goes to her job and S and I wander to the American Apparel in the neighborhood just to try things on. One of the employees I recognize as the nice boy I conversed with while we were waiting for an interview a couple weeks ago. I was not embarrassed to say I turned down the position. He understood. The manager asks how we're finding everything and I tell him his new friend, Paul is a buddy of mine. We chat and manager offers me a buddy discount. I buy two dresses.

"I'm gonna miss you!" He says as we are leaving and gives me a smooch on the cheek, lifting me off the ground as he hugs me.

"Best friendsssss!" I exclaim, with my discounted victory in tow. He walks arm-in-arm in our direction towards the deli and says "Come back and see me!"

I say sure! and run away with my plastic bag.

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