February 1, 2004

  • My Head Snapped Back


    and I let out big yell; "You gotta be shitting me?"  The decibel level of the corporate cafeteria dimmed a bit but did not silence.  The din of assembly line catering services will not be stopped no matter what news is breaking over my cell phone.


    My compadre Richie is going to be a Father!


    At that moment I faced the everyday dilemma - how personal do you get over the phone in public?  I wanted to shout that no convicted felon should have children; this being completely false but said in that way guys somehow have to use to say "congratulations, I love you man!"  I wanted to regale him with exagerated recounts of our late night conquests both successful and mostly not.  I wanted to scream "Yeah man, you da man!"  The muffle of proprietery company policy settled over me instead.


    It has been a few days since that call and Richard and I have broken bread, several in the form of India Pale Ales, and downed the mystical mini chicken and its wings (how they farm these micro chick for bars to server is a blog for another time) and hi-fived each other till our hands were sore.


    Congratulations, mon ami, you are going to be a father.