Three Young Chuckleheads.

Some young people sat next to me, late twenties. I think they are from California. If they are not, I still find them annoying in ways I do not usually find most young people. I do not feel like an old man being irritated by these three.

They moved down a chair to sit next to me. Oh, good, another nerve is being abraded.

We are still far away from the straw that will break this camel’s back. I am glutton for inanity, subjecting myself to it every day. Maybe Sweetboy will show up. I like to test my patience.

I talk to people who sit in bars. I sometimes have very interesting conversations. Thus far, today, I have not.

Most of the time, conversations burble in the background like faraway bees on a summer day. These three did not sting me but I am happy they are gone and far, far away. The toddling trio left while I was writing this paragraph, gone to spread their particular brand of magic elsewhere in New Orleans.

I explained to them how to buy a bus pass. “Hey, thanks for the advice, bro.” I am typing this while I am talking to him.

Only kismet controls who will sit next to you.

Let me tell you about my conversation with these fresh, hepcat masters-of-the-universe. The narrative is going to get crusty behind the paywall.