Unless I’m taking a meeting, eating or running/exercising, I’m usually procrastinating goofing off working in front of my computer. Occasionally, when I need a break or I have writer’s block, I’ll take a walk to one of the fine drinking establishments in my hood, enjoy a shot of whiskey, play some Mott the Hoople on the jukebox, do some people watching, come back and I’m usually ready to jump back to work.
The other night was such an occasion. I walked strolled strutted down to a local bar, ordered my drink and put my dollar in the jukebox. It was a weeknight so the place was mellow and quiet—just the way I like it. There were some college kids in the booths, a couple on a date, a few (mostly) regulars and me. At the end of the bar was an attractive woman, sitting by herself with only a Coke and rum to keep her company. She was blonde, blue-eyed, had an amazing body, beautiful face, looking like she was probably just out of college and new to L.A., clad in jeans and a tight t-shirt with an American flag embroidered across her ample chest–every Japanese businessman’s wet dream. In other words, way out of my league.
So I walk over to the jukebox to punch in a final song before calling it a night. While mulling over my choices, I feel someone coming up behind me. Read more...