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Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Indiana Jones and the Strip Mall Bar (Part 3)

So I'm sitting at this tiny table in a roadhouse bar, my self-esteem pretty blighted by the fact the only people interested in talking with me are a couple of hardened (and sloshy) barflies, one of whom is an angry financier with minimal social skills.

I focus on Indy and his band (who incidentally are playing kick-ass rock and roll,) but then I notice some of the students across the room texting on their phones.

    Of course!

So I pull my phone out and text La Diva (who BTW had planned to go with me but ended up hours south of San Francisco on her own adventure.)
Me: Hi. @bar. Listening 2 Indy.
LaDiva: Fun? Nice place?
Me: um, dive.  currently @tableful of sticky barflies
LaDiva: Indy not with U?
Me: Indy bzy playing in band.
LaDiva:  ??? get out of there!!! R U crazy?!

Major Toht dislikes my texting.  He waves a hand in front of my phone to get my attention.  He points at me and then points at the band.

Major Toht:  uuweeedaban?

Me: Am I with the band? ? Yes, I am here with the bass player.  And the guitarist.  And the keyboardist.  And the singerist.

Major Toht (angry skeptical look): ohwehh? yuuukknnzzzseezname?

Me: His name is Indiana Jones and we are married. We were childhood sweethearts who reunited while searching for the Lost Ark together:  as you yourself may well remember since you were there.   Incidentally, I liked your fold-up hanger.

Fortunately, before I have to continue this completely fatuous (WOD) monologue, the band takes a break.  Indy comes right over, whips his arms around me in a big hug and says, "Let's go outside; they'll think we're going to make out."

At any rate, I enjoy the rest of the night hanging with Indy's friends, while my abandoned barflies sit across the room, two watching me like sad puppies.

And Major Thot.

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