2003-11-05 - 3:14 a.m.

This doesn�t happen often, but as I do work very late and in close proximity to quite a few bars, I sometimes have run-ins with wacky drunks.

These are usually either people in their 30s who work in nearby businesses (I can�t tell you how many times I�ve seen drunk suits flag down a cab and ask to go to Hingham or Westwood), tourists who don�t know any better, or crazy club people who don�t know where the �good� clubs are. Always money drunks. Always, naturally of course, assuming that everyone else is having as good a time.

But there are tons of just plain bad drunks, too. Up and down the ranks of income, some dudes can�t handle their liquor regardless of the environment�s level of prestige.

I was standing outside of my building smoking a cigarette around 10:00 tonight and I could hear five of �em coming from two blocks down. I knew they were going to pass me on the street, and I know I must look a little out of place to bar patrons, standing still, smoking a butt, outside of nothing in particular, and I always do everything in my power to avoid being noticed.

This group, for whatever reason, was loudly singing Can�t Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli, but they only knew the chorus part. As with any group approaching, I avoided eye contact and kept to myself. You just never know when someone�s gonna flip out, and I�d prefer to keep my distance.

One of the chicks, as she passed me, ambushed her arm around my neck (almost knocking my glasses off), rubbed my hair, and sang I love you baby, and put her arms around me as I stood quiet and still, and if it�s quite allright I need you baby, and I noticed that I had wrapped my arm behind her back as if I were posing with her for a photo and also to support her in case she lost her balance, through all those lonely nights, and I gave her three quick pats on the back, the kind you use to wrap up an uncomfortable hug, just as I noticed that the dude bringing up the rear was just about to good-naturedly pat me on the head, trust in me as I say.

That being over and done with, I finished the last couple of drags of my smoke, and noticed in the mirror of my building�s hallway that I was grinning, despite my steel resolve.

I had asked my dear friend R. to watch the phones while I was on my butt break. And this is why she�s great.

When I got back upstairs, I walked in to my office and said Well, my hair smells like beer now.

And she said why?

And I told her the story, finishing it with and I should have slapped her on the ass.

And she said You didn�t slap her on the ass?

And I said No. And that�s like the only time it�s ever, ever appropriate for some total stranger to slap a chick on the ass.

And she said Well you missed your chance.

Now, if I could re-do the entire event, of course I wouldn�t have slapped that girl�s nice, corduroy�d ass.

And that�s not the point, either.

The point is, I was able to relay this story to a friend of mine and have the above exchange. It�s nice to be comfortable enough with someone where you know where they�re coming from and vice versa.

The best song is the one on an album that you listen to over and over because you like it, but then all of a sudden and for whatever reason you�re ready for that song and it gets stuck in your head and the songs on that album you liked most at first now pale in comparison, and you need to listen to that song so badly and you can�t. And then when you do, it�s not a big moment like you thought it would be. Instead it�s just weird and lucky that it�s actually happening, and you try not to overthink it, but then you do anyway, and then it�s over, and you start thinking about that song again now that it�s gone, yearning for it, filling in the memory gaps on your own, slowing it up, speeding it down, and then you notice a hook in the song that just seems so obvious now and you need to hear it again so badly, just to gloss over it when the time comes and salivate for it again in your memory. And then it becomes one of your favourite songs that always reminds you of something good that you can�t remember, that�s always appropriate for anything, that if you play it for someone, it hurts that you can�t understand how they don�t just pack their bags and move into the song after hearing it just once.

And that�s a good friend, too.