Thursday, July 17, 2008
Home Swig Home
Just had to share this:
There's a little bodega on the corner up the street from my and Jayne's apartment. Typically, at just about any hour of the business day, you can find a group of old men sitting at a plastic picnic table out in front of the place shooting the proverbial shit and drinking beer out of cans "concealed" in brown paper bags.
Except for one guy. There's one old guy who's always drinking Sprite -- leading me to assume that he's probably on the wagon or something.
So this morning, after walking Jayne to the bus stop, I strolled back toward our place and stopped into the bodega to grab a cup of coffee. There, at the counter, was the old guy in question -- buying a beer. At 8:30 in the morning. I sidled up beside him, said a bemused "good morning" and watched as he paid for the can of Budweiser, then said to the kid behind the register:
"Manuel -- my thing."
At which point the kid reached under the counter and produced the aluminum skin of a Sprite can, minus the top and bottom. The guy took it and slipped it around his can of Bud, frat-boy style, raised it to me silently as if to toast his own ingenuity, then walked through the door and sat down outside to enjoy what I now know will be the first of many beers he'll have today.
Astoria, fuck yeah.