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December 06, 2004
Harborway Inn
I feel like a liar. A cheater. A scammer. Worse.
I feel like I'm wrong when I'm just trying to be nice.
I feel like I shouldn't have answered all that guy's questions. The guy on Friday. The crazy guy that interrupted my conversation repeatedly.
"Were you born in the State of Maryland?"
Looking away from my primary conversation, the reason I came to the Harborway Inn, "No."
"What state were you born in?"
"Illinois."
"Why did you take so long? You're lying to me, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I was born in the State of Maryland. What state were you born in?"
"Maryland."
"Do you know where Baltimore Street is at?"
"That way."
"Do you know where the inner harbor is?"
"This way."
"Where's South Baltimore?"
"Right here."
"Do you know how to get to 'the Block,' where the ladies take their clothes off?"
"Yeah, it's right down this way."
"What state were you born in?"
"Missourri."
I was just trying to be nice. The poor guy needed some conversation - something to keep his mind occupied while he apparently peed his pants and dribbled the urine around the bar's floor that only minutes earlier had been occupied by a man too drunk, or too crazy, to be considered a valuable patron and was carried out to the first passing cab. But that meant that Emma had to sit and wait, conversationless, while I humored the pant urinater/spreader.
Several times our conversation about creativity was interrupted. Put on hold, usually for the same set of geography questions, or something about Tina Turner, then resumed in an approximate location,
"what could we put on to make him dance again?"
"Sounds like he likes Tina Turner, but it looked to me like he was taking a shit when he did that. I don't know if he was dancing."
"No, he was dancing earlier."
"Oh wait. What were you saying about creativity?"
There I was, trying to be nice giving my attention to this stranger instead of giving my attention to my friend: leaving my friend attention-less. I am a bad person. I realized this. So when she got a
call to meet up with some other people at another bar, we took it. After all, there would likely be fewer crazies to divert my attention.
I was right. There were no crazies as far as I could tell, and usually I can tell because they come up to me and introduce themselves. It's like they all have some sort of guy-who-can't-seem-to-not-talk-to-crazies radar and I show most prominantly on the screen. (Though there was one guy I almost managed to convince myself was not a pimp, despite the oversized, feather stuck hat, cane held by a hand full of rings and a rather slick
looking suit.)
Still, as luck would have it, the party we joined had an overwhelming urge to go to the Harborway. "No. We just came from there and I felt forced to talk to the guy that pissed all over the floor. I don't
want to do it."
"Get in the car, Brian!"
Luckily the second time around he was gone, and the crazy brought in to replace him only quietly asked for beer donations during his few conscious moments.
I was easily able to avoid him and concentrate on taking off my clothes in order to get free beer.
Posted by calculatoronfire at December 6, 2004 10:01 AM
Comments
Don't feel bad, I wasn't helping much either. I haven't learned the art of avoiding crazy's eyes. Once you make eye contact, they'll never leave you alone, not even if they can play ANY song they like on the lovely harbor hole jukebox.
Posted by: emma at December 6, 2004 02:47 PM
He probably just could't find anything he liked. I know I've run into that problem there ever since I quit listening to Conway Twitty.
It's a shame I have no self control and can't handle Conway Twitty in moderation. It's either all or nothing for me, and when I started spending all my waking hours (not to mention quarters) at the juke box playing "just one more" Twitty song I knew I had a problem.
That's a joke. ha ha. Conway Twitty. I'm an Isely Brothers fan.
Posted by: brian at December 6, 2004 03:23 PM
Hey Mr. Brian? Are you going to go help the little children today or would you rather get drunk while answering trivia questions?
Posted by: argyle at December 6, 2004 05:31 PM