If It Doesn’t Fit….

A tale of two court watchers drinking in the night

You were a race car driver on vacation. I was on a boring business trip looking for inspiration.

We met in the hotel bar. Watching the trial of the century no one thought would get so far.

You proclaimed his innocence. I proclaimed your ignorance.

You thought my combativeness was cute. So you got animated and followed suit.

You were at least ten years older. Something about that made my twentysomething self feel bolder.

We bonded over drinks and watched the trial. I told you that your defense of Juice was a sign of denial.

You asked me if I’d ever been in a sports car. I thought you were just spewing bullshit one says in a bar.

You asked me if I wanted to cross state lines to go dancing, and if so, hop in. I asked myself if avoiding dinner with coworkers was worth risking life and limb.

We danced the night away, but you seemed sad. I told you to cheer up, nothing could be so bad.

You cried and said I looked like your adulterous ex-wife. I prayed to the God of my grandmother’s choice that you weren’t a serial killer about to end my life. You said you’d take me to Florida and support me so I could write. Years later a friend would ask me why I didn’t bite.

To me being a stand-in for a cheating wife didn’t sound romantic. But perhaps that’s just me being a bit pedantic.

You brought me back to the hotel in one piece and kissed my hand in the elevator. I climbed into bed alone and forgot your name moments later.

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