cool as ice tea

I was sitting on the part of the granite stairs where folks can’t walk, sipping an iced tea, planning the rest of my day. I had to get through another hour of the day job and then I had some things to button up on the second job and I really did need of do a load of white laundry.

From those granite stairs I watch the tourists and the locals; the locals are the ones with the places where they need to be, the tourists have nowhere to be. I looked left as I took a large sip and noticed a familiar face. It was Jason.

I know Jason from the bar, he’s an OG there (an original gangster). I’d found out that he’s not one of their favorites, which surprised me because, although he talks a lot, he often says funny stuff; but I guess it’s a different story when he’s had too many.

I spoke first as I offered my hand.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good. Good.”

“See I get around a bit.”

“Yes, I see.”

“You’re looking relaxed.”

“When I went on the internet it said if you want to relax do what this guy does and there was a picture of you.”

“Well, I think you’re doing it better than I am.”

“No, man, you’ve got it down pat.”

We talked some more and then he walked off. I finished my ice tea. Walking back to the office I was thinking about how he’ll sometimes say these brilliantly funny things and then sometimes it seems like he’s not getting your joke but then I thought: maybe I’m the clueless one.

Oh, yeah. I meant to write "He smiles like Budda," but I forgot.