The Guy Next To Me

The guy next to me was sitting alone. I was sitting alone.

So as I tapped on my computer during a lunch date for one at an Islands off the 805 I wondered what he did for a living.

I continued on in my work, concentrating but wildly inhaling the afternoon golden ale. It is a Tuesday afternoon. But already by 11:53 a.m. I was feeling like an ice cold one was exactly what I needed to continue in with a long and successful work day.

3/4 of the way through my mid-day pick-me-up I saw the men in uniform come my way.

I wasn't in trouble. Was I?

They greeted the lone man, them in their blues, he in an unassuming dapper shirt and trousers that said "golfer" more than "law enforcement".

The 3 late comers sat with their colleague and in that moment I second guessed my wild enthusiasm when the server had offered me samples of beers to try when I had first sat. Back when I thought he was a lonely man coming from the golf course.

Damn my gluttony!

I sit here with a 1/4 of beer left, taunting me hither. But with the po on my right I immediately feel like I've just been caught ditching Mr. Wasserman's math class. I feel like my parents caught me sneaking

out of my jr. high bedroom window, like I will, inevitably, find myself in trouble because of this afternoon refreshment.

I will leave the drinking for another day.