"Look at Todd," she said. "He's a star, an aristocrat ..."
"Aw, I think he's just homeless, and he's going from friend to friend to friend," he laughed.
"Both," I said.
He said it had been beautiful, perfect, with her ...
"So ... why did it end?" I asked.
He looked down, sadly, and then he said,
"Well, when everything's so great ... between two people,
everyone else around tries to destroy it."
I looked at the window at the night and said,
"It's really dark ... and really cold."
"It's germany ..."
And she told me that she loves Charles Bukowski, because
he puts on paper all the things that the others think, but don't dare to say.
"Mm-hm," I said.
Entering the world of the mystics again ... what a wild night! Met this grampa in a pub, and he was brilliant. Myself and a friend, who is a psychologist, watched in amazement, as Grampa, with clenched teeth, and a grin of steel, arm wrestled with this would-be ne'er-do-well. But he was no match for Grampa, who looked at me and winked and laughed and nodded, simultaneously. He won, and we invited him over to our table. He was old enough to be our grandfather, and at the end of the night, he WAS our grandfather, you know? Everyone was speaking Slovakian, and of course, they kept reminding me of that, like it had some kind of cryptic meaning, which it doesn't ... but then again, maybe it does. But God was in Grampa, I can tell ya that. Then he says,
"Do you boys want to go to a disco?"
"Sure!" we say, and then we're in the taxi, on our way to somewhere, and I swear to y'all, I could honestly write an entire book just about this ONE NIGHT! And Grampa's carrying on about Slovakia in the old days, and then Costa Rica, and something about a brief stint in Wash. D.C., and I'm just soaking it up. Seems he was a soccer coach for twenty years. He was incredible. And the cab driver's asking, "Where to?" and we're just laughing from the last gag in the pub like a half an hour ago, and can't or don't explain where we wanna go, so we're just driving. But the meter's running so he doesn't put up a fuss. He asks again, and Grampa says, "The disco - I told you!" Then the driver looks at me, and I say,"Ok, ok, how about the Chapeau Rouge," an American bar, and then he looks at my buddy, the Slovakian Pyschologist, and he says, "We're going to the Marquis De Sade!" and the driver's just like, Oh, man ... Get to the club, and the HUGE russian bouncer who'll kill you in a heartbeat says it's closed, and we say, "OK." Gawd forgive me, I'm just having fun, living my life, and riding out them hard times, that DO seem to appear every now 'n' then. But man, it turned out to be a great night! So then we're in Taxi II, off to the next joint, with the same routine, Grampa going, "Disco!" and it's about 3 a.m. We go in, give our coats to the doormen, and I notice that some money's sticking out of Grampa's coat pocket, who's drunk. So I zip it up, and you guessed it, later that money was gone. The bouncers ripped him off. I just thought, Let 'em have it (the money)! So we go in, and what does G do? He walks right up to the most beautiful girl in the club, and starts chatting her up, and she grins. Wow! Me and the Slovakian Psychologist look at each other, and just raise our eyebrows in approval. But later, Grampa shoots me a wink, as if to say, "This one's for you, Amigo." Man, that guy was great. I hope that when I'm 70, I'll be like him. So then I'm dancing with the girl. She's awesome. I told her I put a magic spell on her, and she goes, "Oooh, yeahhh." Club boys gawking. Me dancing. She moving with me, inside the cool blue music. Her arms wrapped around me, and we danced to some slow jazz version of "Roxanne" that I've never heard. Sexy as fuck. OK, later, after the club, I realized that she was a witch. But she was a good witch, a horny witch, a hungry nun on my twizzle-stick. (Sorry, mom!) Damn, that girl tasty. So then I'm walking home, wherever that is, after breakfast at 7:10 a.m., and the sun is climbing and I'm loving life. And I see this tram completely FULL to the max with people, going to work, and it's all sluggish and going about 2 miles an hour. My heart reaches out to them, and some get it, and others look at me like, "Where's THAT guy been all night?" And so I start singing a song from my buddy Bernard of the Migs (who's on tour with El Vez, the Mexican Elvis, but that's a different story ENTIRELY!) "There are just too many people!" says I like the song. It was the perfect ending to the perfect night! Or should I say, Just another Monday night ... Hee! And I'm sure Grampa was some kind of an angel, but he was very, very real. And the Slovakian Psychologist and I have been searching for grampa the last 4 nights in a row, but he's nowhere to be found ... -Todd