I mark you as mine!
When I was in LA…
“Hi, my name is ‘Joe’!” (Not his real name.) He was yelling. “I played college football.”
‘Joe’ seemed amicable. Jovial. A bit drunk. I was, at the time, working as a server at one of LA’s most iconic bars. It was one of those slammed Fridays when the floor was so crowded with people licking each other’s faces off, that I had to resort to yelling “Beer coming thru!” as I came between their hungry, slug-like, lapping tongues. The music was thumping out The Pussycat Dolls “When I Grow Up” . Maybe it was Flo Rida’s “In The Ayer”. I don’t care. All I know is that the room is lit in red and a man about 6’5 and 275+ lbs was staring down at me.
