How I Repay a Kindness
So last night, fried and frazzled beyond belief after my seven-hour ordeal driving a whopping fifty miles into Jersey (and back) only to spend hours in a tow truck with a man named Bubba, S. said he would take me out to dinner and ply me with booze and witty conversation to get my mind off the matter.
He took me to Gyu-Kaku, a Japanese barbecue place on the Bowery, which was amazing. Wouldn't you know, a large glass of sake and three mugs of beer later, I was happily grilling away thin and delectable strips of Kobe beef, kalbi tare, duck and scallops and wolfing down big piles of spicy bibimba. Mmmmmmm. Afterward we repaired to the 11th St. Bar for some more painkillers.
Sated and drunk a few hours later, I had all but forgotten about the demise of the Red Baron, Bubba, and how my familiar financial sinkhole of a life had recently grown much deeper and chillier. S. and I discussed valiant plans to "sue the pants off" the garage that deemed my rustbucket to be in "mint condition," and I chalked up yet another great night in New York, all thanks to S. We went back to his house, I had a glass of wine, and we went to bed.
Well, apparently I fell asleep (errrr....passed out?) with a piece of gum in my mouth.
Unfortunately, it didn't stay there.
Because this morning when S. woke up, it was only seconds until he shouted "OH MY GOD, there's something STUCK to my HEAD!", leapt out of bed and ran around the room swatting the back of his hair. In one of those slo-mo moments of horror, I realized IT WAS MY GUM.
I am now trying to walk S., someone who devoted last night to lifting my bleak, black spirits, through the process of applying different loathsome dissolvents -- including peanut butter, gasoline, olive oil and dish soap -- to his own head in an attempt to remove the gum that fell out of my mouth.
I hope someday he finds this situation at least mildly amusing.
He took me to Gyu-Kaku, a Japanese barbecue place on the Bowery, which was amazing. Wouldn't you know, a large glass of sake and three mugs of beer later, I was happily grilling away thin and delectable strips of Kobe beef, kalbi tare, duck and scallops and wolfing down big piles of spicy bibimba. Mmmmmmm. Afterward we repaired to the 11th St. Bar for some more painkillers.
Sated and drunk a few hours later, I had all but forgotten about the demise of the Red Baron, Bubba, and how my familiar financial sinkhole of a life had recently grown much deeper and chillier. S. and I discussed valiant plans to "sue the pants off" the garage that deemed my rustbucket to be in "mint condition," and I chalked up yet another great night in New York, all thanks to S. We went back to his house, I had a glass of wine, and we went to bed.
Well, apparently I fell asleep (errrr....passed out?) with a piece of gum in my mouth.
Unfortunately, it didn't stay there.
Because this morning when S. woke up, it was only seconds until he shouted "OH MY GOD, there's something STUCK to my HEAD!", leapt out of bed and ran around the room swatting the back of his hair. In one of those slo-mo moments of horror, I realized IT WAS MY GUM.
I am now trying to walk S., someone who devoted last night to lifting my bleak, black spirits, through the process of applying different loathsome dissolvents -- including peanut butter, gasoline, olive oil and dish soap -- to his own head in an attempt to remove the gum that fell out of my mouth.
I hope someday he finds this situation at least mildly amusing.
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