An Old Clown

An old clown under a half-lit USA sign stares at me as I turn the corner walking away from the café. I feel like being alone, but I’m supposed to meet some girl. My Peruvian friend, Paulo set it up, or rather his wife did, because they seem to think I spend too much time alone. “You need a girl, and then you’ll stop being lonely.” “But I’m not lonely,” I tell them, and they don’t believe that. “Of course you’re lonely, you’re always alone.” They can’t imagine that I prefer my own company to some girl I can’t talk to because we have nothing in common.
“She’s a lovely girl, and I’ve already told her all about you.”
Great, that means she’ll expect me to say something clever, that because I travel I should have lots to talk about.
I’m wearing my last clean shirt, and I put out my cigarette before I walk in. As soon as I see her next to Paulo, I know the type. Fuck. What have I agreed to? But if I don’t go in, my friend will find me the next day, and give me hell about it because I’m no good at hiding. I always go to the same places, and damned if I didn’t have money to leave town.
They’d already had a few, “and why the hell was I late?” I made up some lie that would placate, and I didn’t say that I was stalling hoping they’d be good and drunk before I got there, so that I could slip off later, but it seems that it hadn’t worked, and they’re expecting me to be entertaining to make up for being late. Instead I slip out of my stool to get a drink, which I’m going to need. I get a double whiskey for myself and bring back a couple of shots hoping to finish what my tardiness hadn’t taken care of. When I get back I’m relieved to find my friend well into a story about his younger wilder days, though I can’t imagine him being younger or wilder. Something about a couple of girls he met while traveling Europe. Paulo has an endless supply of “dirty little stories” he calls them, and I’m happy to sit back with my whiskey wishing they’d let me smoke in this place.
After an hour and a half they’re both silly, and I’m looking for an out. It didn’t come though, and as we’re leaving, and I get her number, which I don’t plan on using, just to satisfy my friend. It’s still early, and maybe I can sneak into a show or something, so I call a friend who is always willing to open a back door.