Probably Not
I’d been out writing at the coffee house for a while, lost in a self-imposed forrest of introspection. It was nearing midnight on Friday and I felt the need for some sort of social interaction. Time to see what the last hour or two of debaucherous drunks in PB were up to. It rarely fails to be entertaining.
I headed out to my local pub – there was a pretty decent Stevie Ray Vaughan/surf rock/classic rock band playing – but I excused myself for a few to hang with the doorman and check out his new tattoo-in-progress. We were talking about the symbolism of the koi and dragon when I was approached by a young lady in line.
“Hey so how are you what’s going on tonite are you chewing gum can I have some?”
“Good, a band, and yes.”
“Because I’m a smoker but I’m going in and I’m cold so I don’t want to stand out here and have a smoke so some gum would be cool ok thanx.”
“No problem.”
“So I’m going in and are you going in and are you going to also and do you want to buy me a drink?”
I can practically smell the coke seeping through her pores. Without a moment’s hesitation, I respond.
“Probably not.”
It’s a form of a polite but sturdy “absolutely not,” for me.
She waves me off and prances inside.
It’s good to have standards.