I was taking a break from watching the stage show at Devil’s Point. Monday night. Fun crowd. Firestrippers. But I have realized that parties and bars are more fun if I move around a bit, not staying in one place too long. So I made my way through the crowd to hang out near the video poker machines. There was still a crowd back there, whooping and cheering and drinking. Devil’s Point is a small club.
Seated on the chair, I pulled out my iPhone and started checking email.
Six foot tall blonde dude with shoulders nearly as broad as I am tall in a brown fancy leather coat, holding a bottle of Dead Guy Ale and a cigarette looks over at me. “That one’a those iPhones?” he asks.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” I confirm. There’s a pause. I stroke the face of the phone, glowing through the haze from my palm. “It’s sooooo… sexy” I intone.
Blonde dude’s friends laugh and tell me that’s great. Blonde dude smiles, but sheepishly, like he’s been embarrassed. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” He’s deflated.
Feeling cocky, I ask him bluntly, “Oh, yeah? What’ve you got?”
His friends laugh again, and one of them holds up his hand for a high five. “You’re allright, man!”
Blonde dude is smiling and determined to salvage something out of the situation. “Oh, oh, OK, I’ll show you what I’ve got!” He digs in his pockets and pulls out a plastic LG or Samsung flip phone. He unfolds it.
“That’s great!” I say. I can’t believe how much of an asshole I’m being. “What’s it do? Make phone calls?”
His friends by now are busting up, doubled over in laughter. Blonde dude holds out his hand. “You’re alright, man. I’m Rod. What’s your name?”
“Of course you are!” I say. “I’m Brian.” I shake his hand.
“I’m gonna take a picture of you with my phone!” he decides.
“Yeah, remember this forever,” I tell him, and smile for his phone camera picture.