One, two

In the restaurant last night with One of My Favorite Canadians, a couple sat down next to us and immediately started to finger their crackberries. Then the maitre d’ appeared and they shared a few words… and they both went back to their devices. Then the woman put her phone+ away, but the husband went back to his device. They barely spoke, and he kept returning to his machine. “Love, exciting and new/Come aboard/We’re expecting youoooo.”

We were appalled.

Afterwards, OOMFC said, you aren’t going to put me in your blog, are you? I said, what do you mean? She said, well, you’re such a playboy these days… To which I snorted. I swear, nobody reads this thing. Like those two guys we saw doing the drug handoff on the path up to Strawberry Field? They don’t read this.

Standing on the subway reading this morning, I looked up when a hand touched my elbow. Vaguely familiar face smiling at me…brain racing through memory banks…o my god, erstwhile girlfriend, the Doctor of Librarianship! Her hair was shorter and hiding behind her cap, which was why I didn’t recognize her at first. Plus the context was all wrong: she’s in another city these days. But complex legal plots were afloat a few F stops behind us, which was why she was in town, and rushing to catch the Chinatown bus. Too brief an encounter, kidoo.