So, I get off of work – waiting tables at a local steakhouse – at about 9:00 PM. I go home, start dinner, and in all respects prepare for a nice, relaxing evening. That’s when the phone rings.
It’s a number I don’t recognize, but the solicitors don’t have my cellphone number (yet), so I pick it up anyway. It’s a girl, someone I’ve never met before, who works with a friend of mine and has seen me in the restaurant once or twice. Apparently, she had taken a certain interest, so she had gotten my number from my friend and had called to invite me to join them (her and my friend) downtown for a few drinks. This is a certainly a first for me, and I have nothing better to do, so I accept. When we arrive at Awful Arthur’s (a seafood joint/pool bar), we find my father – who works at the same restaurant as my friend – shooting pool with a guy we don’t know.
We go up to say ‘hi’, and shoot a few games and chat. During this time, I notice that this other gentleman, introduced to me as Ke (“kay”), despite not making a show of it, is nonetheless very clearly establishing that he is paying for the entire party’s drinks. The evening continues, and in between shots at the pool table, the conversation moves to more serious matters. Ke, as it turns out, is an ex-Army captain trained as a linguist, which is the job for which I am currently enlisting in the Air Force. I tell him of my plans to study Chinese, and he produces a business card. Ke, it seems, is not only ex-military, but is also the President of a billion-dollar international business consultant firm that operates out of the United States and China (NOTE: in addition to the fact that my father knows the guy, I checked his story out independently, and he really is who he says he is), who happens to take interest in hiring military-trained Chinese and Korean linguists…especially those with up-to-date Top Secret security clearances, which my future position will require me to have. He tells me a few war stories, we talk for a bit about the military, he tells me about what exactly his company does, and after an hour or so, he hands me the business card and tells me to give him a call when I finish my enlistment.
Meanwhile, while he’s at the table taking his shots, I’m keeping up conversation with the girl who is, after all, the reason I’m here in the first place. Her name is Liz, and she’s a very beautiful girl, extremely sweet, and seems to have a good sense of fun. I’m telling her about my future plans, and teaching her a bit about pool in the process.
So, at this point, my evening has gone from sitting around in my underwear eating spaghetti to flirting with a sweet, gorgeous girl and chatting up the president of a billion-dollar corporation while simultaneously kicking both their asses at pool. A voice in the back of my mind points out that perhaps I am in a touch over my head, but I ignore it. I’m smart, I think well on my feet, I’m good at keeping my cool…I can play this. Actually, scratch that; I hate “playing”. I refuse to “play”. Always have, always will. I can do this.
Now, I’m starting to think that maybe this night wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The possibilities seem endless. Liz suggests that we move over to the bar so that we can get to some drinking. I don’t drink, but I conveniently neglect to mention that, and Ke orders up a round of Maker’s and ginger for the three of us. Just as we take our first sip (mine done with lips firmly sealed around the edge of the glass), my friend comes around the corner with a worried look on his face. “Liz,” he asks, “did you take your purse with you?”. “No”. Uh-oh.
The restaurant is searched, the patrons are questioned, and no sign of the missing purse. The contents: seven dollars, her car keys, her credit card, a $350 digital camera, and her cell phone. She is nearly in hysterics…not over the items, which we quickly assure her can and will be replaced, but over what her parents will do when they find out about this. It is at this point that I learn that she has just recently turned 18, and is drinking using a fake ID. She still lives with her parents, and she is convinced there are going to be consequences. My father suggests that I use this opportunity to make a move. I tell him to fuck off. That is not now, has never been, and never will be, my modus operandi. Debate the ethics of the situation and the application of personal judgement all you like; it smacks of assholery and I will not engage in it. I do make a couple of sincere, if futile, attempts to console her, but she will have none of it.
Suddenly, Ke springs into action – he whips out his cell phone and starts making calls. I don’t know who he calls, but within minutes, the FBI has a lock on the phone’s GPS locator and the police are beginning a search. He takes Liz, gets in the car with her, and they head off to Og knows where. I see them off, and head back home.
So, here I am, sitting at my computer, posting the events of my evening to the Dope for no apparent reason, and wondering what, if anything, will come of it all. I’m wondering, too, why exactly it is that I always get caught in the middle of things like this. Be it grand design or recurring coincidence, whenever I’m around, there will be a “situation” to which I am tangentally privy through no action of my own. I’m never directly involved, but nonetheless, I will be there every step of the way, influencing in some small part the events that go on around me.
What effects will these things have on me? What effects have they already had of which I may or may not be aware? Will it all come around to some cumulative denouement? Or will this tendency simply continue throughout my entire life, on into the future, leaving me always to witness the madness, one level removed yet undeniably present, giving no clue as to why this may be?
Yeah, I’m probably attaching way too much significance to this sort of thing. I blame all the alcohol I didn’t drink. Whatever the case, I met a nice girl, got to know a possible future contact, and all in all, had quite the interesting evening, for better or for worse. Yes, tonight…was a very odd night.
Just thought I’d share.
