After we got Lipton cleaned up, fed, and (almost) sober, he and I got to know each other in person. "Knowing" somebody through blogging together is not the same. He seems like a really nice guy while blogging. Not so much in person.
We drove several hundred miles, talking most of the way, except when Rush Limbaugh was on the radio. LTB did not even ask where his car and his personal effects were. It would not have done any good because I had no clue. They were wherever he had last left them. All he had was the clothes on his back. If he had cash, the cheap bastard never shared any of our expenses as I was taking him home to his significant other.
It was somewhere in east Texas that we stopped for a cold one. Small town, out in the middle of nowhere. I'm not really into frequenting bars in the middle of nowhere, but playing wing man to LTB it wasn't so bad. Until he told the bartender that I was buying a round for everybody. I tried to tell the bartender no, but by then the whole damn place was in an uproar. Discretion told me to put it on the MasterCard and hope that I could pass it off as a business expense later.
Next thing I remember about Lipton was he was being lead around like a dog in heat with a pretty little cowgirl in some sort of line dance. He followed her into the women's john. I rolled my eyes, but minded my own business. I had only signed on to get him home, not to baby sit him.
But he never came out. Nor did she. Many other women went in and out, but neither of them. Good Lord, I thought, how long is this going to take? Finally, after an awkward hour, I stopped some lady and asked her to check on them and give me a report. When she said they weren't in there, I stormed in myself. A couple of screams and some curse words chased me out again, but not until I noticed the open window with the chair beneath it. Damn.
Collect call. Sexy female voice: "Hello?"
"He's gone. I lost him somewhere in east Texas." I thought it best not to mention the sexy little cowgirl and the circumstances of his departure.
I heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line and then a click, and then a dial tone. All I could think about was that it might be longer than I thought until Lipton T. Bagg was back blogging again. Sorry folks. Damn it all, why hadn't I watched him a little closer?
John Doe
Hey John, next time ya catch him, handcuff him to your wrist, he he. ;)
ReplyDeleteI hope he gets that line-dancing bug out of his system before he gets back to California, out here on the Left Coast the only kind of dancing allowed is ecstatic hippie twirling.
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