Scene – Kuwait military base dining tent.
Accessories – 2x banana milk, that shit was delicious
People – Some people I tolerated and the sea of people of fear and loathing in the tent.
Guy 1# says, “It is my birthday, and I see Darrell Worley over there. I love him.” During this conversation, he flaps his hands around in some gesture that I can only assume reenforces his affection towards the singer.
Guy 1 hangs his head low, a look of despair and loss on his face. He sobbingly mumbles that he does not have the courage to go and confront his heart-throb.
My autism kicks in full gear, because I am just that kind of amateur amazing temporary friend.
I tell him that I will handle it.
I leave my table, banana milk not in hand because people just cannot handle that kind of image. Who knows how many chevrons would be swollen.
I walk up to the table that I was pointed towards and awkwardly shout out “Is one of you Darrell Worly?
One guy looks up. He proceeds to stand up. And man, did he stand up. It reminded me of a giant Republic of California Redwood. Just sped up and with flesh instead of bark. A mouth hole instead of a root.
Have you ever watched videos of space rocket launches?
Watch that shit in slow motion. Then listen to slowed down Star Wars theme song.
Anyways, after the beanstock was satisfied with reaching the limits of vertical growth.
He confirmed that he was indeed the person I requested.
“My friend over there has a birthday that happens to be today. He is a big fan and would like to talk to you for a moment.”
There was an awkward duration where no blinking was drawn from the crowd. How ignorant I was.
But he agreed. He signed guy 1’s book.
Then the flagpole turned his attention to me.
“Would you like an autograph?”
Uhhhhhhh. This was a real inner response that had the outward manifestation that makes people uncomfortable. Thankfully, I saved it by agreeing, just after some time.
“Do you have paper?”
Uhhhhhh. Again, see above. This was the save. I thrust forward my Coke paper soda cup.
He had his own uhhh moment as he swayed in the breeze of the ceiling fans.
He took it and signed the cup.
I thanked him. But, I had one last insult in the quiver. I did not think about it at the time. But I must admit looking back on it, I should have waited until I was out of the sight of the Eye of Sauron.
But, to wit, I threw the cup away.
I do not give a fuck about him. I am not good at hiding my feelings. It manifests in different ways.