Christmas of 2006 I found myself wandering around a Virgin Records Superstore in god-knows-what-city. It had been 3 days since I had been back to the hotel where I was staying with some friends from Denver, and I wasn't even sure if they were still here in town. But for some reason, none of this seemed to matter to me, and I was desperate to find some album in the store. I think it was a Weird Al's Greatest Hits or some shit, I don't remember and details aren't the biggest parts of my stories, so get over it.
I'm in the Jazz section which is also fuckin' weird cause I hate Jazz. I need more stability than that in my life, I guess. I turn to find my way back into a section that's more my age range, I see Joan Allen casually reading the back of a Pat Metheny CD case.
"Holy shit." I accidentally blurted out. Her eyes flicked up to me, there was an almost imperceptible twitch at the side of her mouth, then she looked back down at the album.
The gentleman that I am, I quickly offered an apology and was about to continue on my way, but she stopped me by saying "What are you sorry for, young man?"
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| Meow |
My mind was spinning, my palms were sweaty and I was pretty sure I wasn't even drunk, but out of my mouth came "You're so goddamned hot, and this store is so goddamned shitty, it just caught me off guard. Sorry, Joan Allen. I don't usually cuss this much." Bullshit, I thought.
"Bullshit." she said.
We both laughed for a second, then she said "I'll see you around."
I have no idea what the fuck that was supposed to mean.
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