Dave and I were roommates for close to six years.
We know each other very well.
Our tastes in food, spirits, music, movies, women...
Most importantly, we know each other's moods.
I was a bike messenger.
Dave was a high school English teacher for Chicago Public Schools.
Both emotionally draining, soul challenging jobs.
Often we came home with black clouds scribbled over our heads.
We gave each other space.
Then we drank.
Sometimes I miss that apartment.
It had central air and a backyard.
Last year Dave quit CPS and moved east to pursue a PhD at U-Mass.
I haven't seen him in a while.
He looks younger, he's wearing less stress.
Good for him.
We goofed on old times and new times, and gave each other liquor-pickled encouragement.
Dave enjoyed dirty martinis, shaken to perfection by the Tiny Lounge's redheaded pro, then switched to a puckery summer bourbon drink.
I stuck to draught beer, as it remained cheaper for Dave to buy me those.
The new bartender, a petite blond, told us she wanted to start a comedy variety show.
I've had experience with this and gave her my sloppy but sincere encouragement.
Suddenly the bar closed.
At the bar next door, a waitress enjoyed a smoke break.
She too was a petite blond, and told us she wanted to teach for CPS.
Dave had experience with that and gave her his loose but sincere encouragement.
Bizarro!
Verdict: Win
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