Good Conversation is Hard to Find
I love meeting people who are not from my area. Although many of the problems that exist in these people’s lives I can relate to, being that they’re from a different area, the problems are actually quite different.
On a recent trip to Vegas, yeah Vegas baby, I had the opportunity to share insight to a troubled man’s life. He was in bad shape from what I could put together.
First of all, he lost his shirt in the casino. This was obvious to me because he was wearing nothing but a jacket and tie. because, you see, he lost his shirt.
I asked him if he was going to be okay, because frankly, I didn’t want to take care of him. But I was willing to listen. So I did.
From his accent, I guessed he was from Boston, or in that area. I was right. He was from ‘in that area.’ Being one for one, I guessed his last name was Kennedy. Wrong. Being one for two, I guessed he was a democrat. Right. Being two for three, he interrupted me and said, “Will you let me tell my story?” So I shut up.
He told me his 20-year-old daughter just had her second child. She was born at noon, which was weird because it was 11:30. Apparently, the father took off, leaving her with two children to care for. And to make it worse, the children had two different fathers.
“She’s never going to find a decent man,” he said. I thought to myself, ‘yep.’
Because the way I see it, no matter how perfect she is, there is no way I could ever see myself falling in love with a woman like this. Twenty years old with two children, from two different fathers? No way.
And I know what some of you are thinking, so stop it.
My thinking is, these two children don’t look like each other. And if I date their mother, neither one would look like me. It would be awkward.
Because if we ever had a child, then our child would not look like her other kids, which would make me eligible for the job of spokesperson for Skittles, taste the rainbow. We’d have a band of different colors.
I explained this logic to the man, and he punched me in the face. I asked, “What was that for?” “I was referring to the thought that guy’s would use her,” he said. “Now you tell me this angle?” he continued. I began to understand.
To secure his thinking, I informed him that she’d probably be used in the near future. He smiled and bought me a drink.
There was a brief silence, so I asked a question. “Do you live in a compound?” He replied, “My last name is not Kennedy!” More silence.
Our remaining time together was silent. It was a comfortable silence…the chairs were leather. He left when he was paged over the intercom.
“We found a shirt by the craps table. I repeat, we found a shirt by the craps table.” “That’s me,” he said.
I love meeting new people.
