“All your life, you’ve never seen Woman, taken by the wind…”
The waitress hands me a spork. “What’s that for?” Nikki asks. “Oh, it’s for the grits,” I explain, placing it carefully next to my knife. “But I’m not using it. I think sporks and spoons are disgusting.” Nikki sighs, with a hint of amusement, and says: “Of course you do.”
It’s a Thursday. I’m sitting in the window of Sitti, an incredible Lebanese restaurant in downtown Raleigh. Despite icy rain, and a congested commute home from Durham, I somehow beat my dinner companion, arriving at 6:30 on the dot. When she arrives, I’m already sipping a dry red, an incredible Argentinian Malbec.
It’s Monday night at The Station, off Person Street in Raleigh.
It’s a Wednesday, 9 P.M. I’m drinking a tangerine flavored beer, at Person Street Bar, with the future Mr. and Mrs. Josh Gruder. Meagan, the so mentioned future Mrs., (who is also my co-worker), is telling me about a man in New Orleans. “He shot a rat between the eyes, and then fed it to…