party crashing part dos
3 beers, a broken frame and a weird, fellow homeless crasher later (fellow *just the “crasher” part) it is time to go. Just as take my last swig of random beer from overcrowded sofa arm, a guy in a white shirt and purple tie starts chatting with me.
I’m in time-to-bust-this-joint mode, not hit-up-more-friendly-conversation mode, so I half smile and answer his questions in that, I-would-love-to-talk-more,-but-I-have- to-get going, pee bad, this is just not a good time-kind of way. But dude is not having any of that. His mouth is moving and he is getting closer to my face. He must still be a good 2 feet away but I start finding myself in a cloud of his rancid breath. I keep turning around to take fake swigs of someone else’s empty beer, mini escapes for fresher air.