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June 06, 2009
Walks, Talks, and Snorts
I'm home, having coffee, and listening to Big Whiskey. For the umpteenth time, but the first time in the quiet that is my home. Just me and the band.
I've got a friend in the DC area that found me through (if memory serves) a Dave-related post on pondring a few years ago. It was the first common thread. Derrick is as big a fan as I am.
(He also seems to share my lack of spatial perception.)
I was working near DC a couple of years ago, so he and I met for the first time for dinner. This past week I let him know I'd be in the area, so he came downtown Tuesday night. He sent me a text earlier in the day saying he was at the store buying Big Whiskey, and got me one too.
When we caught up with each other outside the Verizon Center, I remembered to hug him first and THEN ask for the CD.
We walked and talked and eventually found our way to Gordon Biersch for some beers and dinner.
I've previously mentioned that Derrick is one funny mofo. His job is one I find particularly fascinating, and he's got no shortage of stories. I found myself snorting repeatedly.
Fortunately it only served to encourage him. We walked and talked more after dinner, until late. Well, late for me. He's a night owl.
Wednesday night we met in Reston's Towne Center. Walked around a bit and finally found our way to a cool restaurant that had a bar outside. We sat and drank and talked and people-watched for a while.
I snorted.
We were sitting at the short end of the bar. When I sat down there was a large white envelope leaning against the wall. The bartender asked if it was mine, and I said no. Thinking someone might come back for it, we left it there.
After a bit of time curiosity got the better of me, so I opened the envelope. It was a resume and a CD.
Derrick and I started to postulate. I wondered whether I should call the guy's number from the bottom of the paper. Then wondered if maybe he had met someone here for an interview, and the interviewer didn't think the resume was worth taking with him. Maybe. So if I called the guy, maybe he'd know the interview sucked.
Who knows.
Eventually I took the papers out of the envelope, found the phone number at the bottom, and called it.
The guy that answered the phone had never heard the name I gave him from the resume. I said thanks and hung up.
Then kept reading. There were some serious typos in the thing.
I put it back in the envelope, handed it to the bartender, and told him what it was, and that I had called the number on it with no luck.
He took it from me, looked at it for about 20 seconds, pondring, you could see it.
He put the thing in the trash.
And Derrick and I continued our conversation. Which include more stories about his job, running bar-patron-people-watching commentary, and more snorts.
We had a nice dinner, and while eating, the skies opened up. It was still pouring when we were done eating, and neither of us had an umbrella. So we darted our way from awning to awning, and then through a movie theatre, toward the parking garages.
We got to the garage I was parked in first, so I drove him to his car, which was in a garage just down the road. When he got in, Big Whiskey was, of course, in the CD player of the crap rental car.
(Which made it tolerable.)
I put on his favorite song, drove the short distance, we said our goodbyes, and I went back to DC.
(Thursday he had to work, and I, having stayed up for three nights in a row until midnight or after, ordered food in my room and was asleep by 9:30.)
I called him when I got home last night, and right away heard the music in the background. "That sounds like Grux," I say.
"It is," he says. Then says the CD is playing for the fourth time in a row.
What's not to like about that.
Right now, I've got three more times through ahead of me, in the quiet of my home. Me, coffee, and the band.
Thanks again, Derrick, for Big Whiskey, the walks and talks. And snorts.
Written by Angela Tanner. June 6, 2009 11:18 AM