On my way home from the office last night, I stopped by a local brasserie for a cocktail. A G&T, to be precise. The bartenders are all friends of a friend and know exactly the way I like it.
I stood at the bar and calmly surveyed the talent, downing three drinks in 15 minutes. The place held a smattering of office workers, couples, Persian players, cougars, and escorts.
It was only then I noticed the people sitting next to me.
Tall, tanned, blonde, bloated, affluent-looking, the sort that probably attended USC and get annoyed when I pointedly assume they spent their college years in South Carolina.
"Oh, you went to the other USC..."
These people were staring at me with the same bemused, stupid, smug incomprehension the Indians must have had when the Spaniards landed upon these shores.
The head douchebag, an older man with red face, untucked stripey shirt, and denim, smiled at me and said: "Why are you wearing a tie?"
I turned and slowly looked him up and down.
"So I don't look like you people".
One of the advantages of being a tall muscled chap is that I can say such things and get away with it.
A younger guy wearing a baseball cap immediately stepped in, introducing himself as John, and offered to buy me a drink, which I accepted.
The evening ended without violent incident.