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Tuesday, January 6, 2015

So Kiss Me, and Wait for Me; or Silly Hipsters

The wind howls outside.  It is nine degrees below zero.

Inside, the hipster two stools over has made a discovery.

“Oh, my God,” he says to his heavily crocheted, urban-quirky friend.  “Have you heard of Bob Denver?”

Hidden cleverly behind a towering beer, my eyes brighten by at least two shades.  Has this scrawny, bearded, corduroy-wearing man-boy just discovered Gilligan?  What in the world could there be to say about it?

I take a sip.  I lean imperceptibly closer.

“Who?” says the 20-something gal.  Adorable, as smooth and dewy as a pearl, I fight the urge to tuck a loose bit of her hair behind one of her little pink ears. 

“I heard it at the piano bar,” he says.  He picks up his beer, takes a healthy pull at it.  “You ever hear the song, Drive Me Home, Country Roads?”

Ah-ha. 

John Denver, not Bob Denver.  Take Me Home, Country Roads. 

I close my eyes, the better to listen.   

“I’m not sure that’s right,” she says.

But it is, he insists.  He heard it the other night. 

I open my eyes in time to see her shrug.

The Anchor, a small place with a small bar, is full, as it is almost every day of the week.  Home to local art, local color, and non-local flaky white fish, I hold up my empty glass as a waitress skitters around me. 

“Another?”

“A small one,” I say.

I pull out my notebook.  Hipster #1 is singing.

“So kiss me and wait for me,” he bawls.  “Tell me that you’ll play for me.  Hold me like you’re never letting go.”

The girl winces.

“I’m leavin’, on a jetway!  Don’t know when I’ll be back again!”

She laughs.  He picks up a bottle, sings into it with the sincerity of the young and confident.  “Oh, babe!  I hate to go!”

I smile, push past them.

When I return from the bathroom, my check is ready. 

And so is theirs.  Heads pressed together, they are staring at the bill.  “What’s 20 percent?” he says to her.  “If I just round up and add a buck or two, that should be 20%, right?”

I consider explaining the concept of the percentage to them, but finish my beer instead.  I pull my scarf on, my hat, my coat, my gloves.  I adjust my leggings, pulling them up over my knees, check my boots for zipping.  Outside, Mother Nature has given full throat to her murderous desires, and I push out the front door reluctantly. 


Oh, babe.  I hate to go.  

25 comments:

esbboston said...

I usuaLLy don't hate to go.

joeh said...

You are a master eves-dropper.

They may not know old lyrics or simple math, but they are good to have around if you have a problem with your i-phone.

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
Oh deary me - I know Bob and his Jetway Country Byway thingo - does it mean I too am hopeless at percentages??? Glad you wrapped up well. Don't need you going off air again, not when you bring gems like this to shine in our evenings... Hugs, YAM xx

Delores said...

I thought there was an app for that.

Geo. said...

Great glimpse into city life, Skipper. Thank God I'm a country boy.

Robbie Grey said...

Ah, the folly of youth...

Simply Suthern said...

"Drive me Home" is Uber's new slogan me thinks. Then they flash to the image of the SS Miinow.

bill lisleman said...

I hate to go out in this cold world too. Really more people should understand the concept of percentage. Just think if there was over 90% of the people understanding percentage then the 1% would get away with much less - don't you think?

jenny_o said...

I heart John Denver's music, but I've never sung it into a bottle. I may take up drinking just so I can do that. "If I could have sung in a bottle" - Jim Whosit's lyrics there, right?

Lisa Golden said...

Have I mentioned lately how much I love your writing?

River said...

I know both Bob and John Denver. Not personally, you understand, but that's how...old...I..oh dear.
Love the mental image of you adding layers and layers of warmth. With that kind of cold I'd be tempted to just sit tight until spring.

Jono said...

How did you not barf at that rendition? And I know you're too young to know Bob as Maynard G. Krebs.

Elephant's Child said...

You make an art-form out of eavesdropping. Thank you.

Nancy/BLissed-Out Grandma said...

Beautiful. I've heard conversations kinda like that, and I've committed conversations like that, sometimes without a clue, I'm sure. Stay warm.

Linda O'Connell said...

My granddaughter is 25 and has fallen in love with albums, large CDs, you know? There is something to be said for youth.

Joanne Noragon said...

I've seen heavily crocheted, urban quirky young things. They generally find cooler drinking mates, you know what I mean?

wendy house said...

I'd have an inaccurate conversation with myself if I thought it would end up as an entertaining ditty on your blog. Normally it just ends up as some strange looks and several offers of help

Catalyst/Taylor said...

I had a friend in Denver when John Denver was popular. He said everyone in Colorado hated him. Why, I wondered. Because, he said, his songs brought too many people into Colorado to live.

Buttons said...

Keep warm Pearl:) Hug B

Watson said...

If I could stop laughing I'd write something witty! Maybe I'll just play one of my John Denver cd's!

Rose L said...

Seems people always mess up the words to songs. Remember the song THERE'S A BAD MOON ON THE RISE. My dad would sing THERE'S A BATHROOM ON THE RIGHT.
I never corrected him either, just got a laugh from it.

Suldog said...

As Jono was hinting at, the lovely thing about this is that they were unknowingly channeling Maynard G. Krebs.

Gigi said...

I've never understood percentages...does that mean *I'm* a hipster?

Jo-Anne Meadows said...

Ok ok ok I like to listen to other people's conversations because I am that cool no rude but what harm if the don't know I am doing it just saying.

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

They would SUCK at trivia, but gee, they're cute.