I rode the bus to the library today, as I often do. I took a seat next to a young gentleman who appeared to be quite stoned.
"You Irish, man?" he asked.
"Obviously," I replied. I laughed.
"You got muscle spasms?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh...yeah...I'm kinda twitchy. A friend used to think I had tourettes syndrome. I get spasms all the time," I said, faintly remembering that at least I've stopped crinkling my nose in a non-sexy mannerr since my glasses got fixed. I didn't feel like regailing this young fellow with my six hundred other medical issues, and just left it at 'Irish and twitchy.'
He kept talking as we passed 'The Bard's Town' a pub on Bardstown Road. I think it used to be a pizza place, or it may have been there a while. I'm not really sure, I never go in there. "Man, there ain't nuthin in Bardstown...why is that place called Bards Town pub? Bardstown is a Dukes of Hazzard looking place. You ever been there man?" he asked.
"I don't drive, and there's nuthin down there, really."
"Ain't nuthin' in Bardstown," he agreed. "Who's that dude on the sign," he asked, pointing to the cartoony rendition of William Shakespheare.
"That's Shakespheare," I said.
"Whats that got to do with Bardstown?" he asked.
"Well, back then they called poets and writers bards, so they called William Shakespheare a bard. I guess they named the pub and Bardstown both after him, but why the hell you'd name a place in Kentucky after a master of literature is beyond me."
I asked him where he was from.
"I'm from Detroit, man," he said. "I was on my way to Atlanta and ended up here."
I told him that was a hell of a wrong turn. He laughed. "I lost my wallet at 4th street. You ever been to 4th street?" he asked.
I told him I had, but I usually hang out in the Highlands, the area around William Shakesphere. Although I did make a short note to him about the nice time I had at 4th Street on Halloween one year where many young ladies paraded around in costumes made out of very little covering materials. He said he'd try to make it out there this year. My stop was coming up. I extended my hand. He shook it.
"My name is Joey, man, what's yours?"
"Josh, man."
"You have a good day, man. I hope you make it to Atlanta or whatever."
"You Irish, man?" he asked.
"Obviously," I replied. I laughed.
"You got muscle spasms?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh...yeah...I'm kinda twitchy. A friend used to think I had tourettes syndrome. I get spasms all the time," I said, faintly remembering that at least I've stopped crinkling my nose in a non-sexy mannerr since my glasses got fixed. I didn't feel like regailing this young fellow with my six hundred other medical issues, and just left it at 'Irish and twitchy.'
He kept talking as we passed 'The Bard's Town' a pub on Bardstown Road. I think it used to be a pizza place, or it may have been there a while. I'm not really sure, I never go in there. "Man, there ain't nuthin in Bardstown...why is that place called Bards Town pub? Bardstown is a Dukes of Hazzard looking place. You ever been there man?" he asked.
"I don't drive, and there's nuthin down there, really."
"Ain't nuthin' in Bardstown," he agreed. "Who's that dude on the sign," he asked, pointing to the cartoony rendition of William Shakespheare.
"That's Shakespheare," I said.
"Whats that got to do with Bardstown?" he asked.
"Well, back then they called poets and writers bards, so they called William Shakespheare a bard. I guess they named the pub and Bardstown both after him, but why the hell you'd name a place in Kentucky after a master of literature is beyond me."
I asked him where he was from.
"I'm from Detroit, man," he said. "I was on my way to Atlanta and ended up here."
I told him that was a hell of a wrong turn. He laughed. "I lost my wallet at 4th street. You ever been to 4th street?" he asked.
I told him I had, but I usually hang out in the Highlands, the area around William Shakesphere. Although I did make a short note to him about the nice time I had at 4th Street on Halloween one year where many young ladies paraded around in costumes made out of very little covering materials. He said he'd try to make it out there this year. My stop was coming up. I extended my hand. He shook it.
"My name is Joey, man, what's yours?"
"Josh, man."
"You have a good day, man. I hope you make it to Atlanta or whatever."