Working out on the weight machine…weird guy smiles, stumbles by.
You know weird guy.
Skinny, way too tight shorts, hair a friggin’ mess, dentally challenged, sat by himself in the high school cafeteria.
Maybe, methinks, I can spark up a conversation. Tap into his weirdness.
“You like music? Talking Heads?”
Talking all sorts of sh_t.
Another guy, without us knowing, is listening in. Great, great looking guy.
In high school? The King.
So he jumps in.
Now we have misfit, who nobody wanted, and the King, who everybody loved, and me. All of us in our sixties. A great triangle.
And God, did we talk music.
“Yeah, saw them in concert at the Garden…”
“U gotta be kidding. The Cure much better…”
Being Good Friday, the Y was closing early , in a few minutes.
Wanted our talk to go on forever.
Such a strange confluence of people.
But pure magic.