A Day In The Life

I was standing in the gym, waiting for my friend to come out of the locker room. A muscular young man I’ve never seen before in my life strode up with that head-down mulishness associated with New York pedestrians at rush hour. I started to move out of his way, but he stopped me. His voice was half accusation and half suspicion.

“Are you Carole?”

Huh? How do you know my name? “Yes.”

“I’m [name redacted].” He shoved a hand at me.

Did I ask? Please go away now. I didn’t want to shake his hand but I did because there were people watching and I knew a lot of them. “Uh huh. Nice to meet you, [name redacted].”

“Sara pointed you out to me. You know Sara?”

The only Sara I knew at that gym died particularly tragically two years ago, rest her soul. I assumed he didn’t mean her. “No, I don’t.”

He gestured in a vague direction at maybe twenty or thirty people. “She’s over there.”

“Sorry, I don’t know her.”

His eyes narrowed, like he didn’t believe me. I waited for it. I knew what he was going to say. You probably do, too. Sure enough, there it was.

“I’m a writer. She says you’re a writer too.”

Believe it or not, it went downhill from there. Try not to look surprised. I sure wasn’t. It’s amazing how total strangers get angry or offended when I can’t forward their careers. This one managed both. What the hell, I was stuck. I couldn’t leave until my friend showed up, so I gave the guy some legitimate advice based on my experience. It ended thus:

Him: “If anyone ever tried to rewrite one of my screenplays, I’d hunt them down and kill them and then I’d be a fugitive for the rest of my life.”

Me: “If you’re speaking metaphorically, good luck with that. If you’re being literal, then yes, you will.”

Him: “Damn straight. You’ll see me on CNN.”

What else could I say, but: “Looking forward to it.”