Sometimes it doesn’t matter if your peanut butter is crunchy or creamy.
One example is when you get gum in your hair.
It’s true, some things matter and others don’t, but figuring that out is a tricky proposition.
On Tuesday my friends and I went to the Clermont Lounge for Karaoke. It’s an infamous location, and like most nights seedy and memorable were in perfect harmony.
One of the hosts, named Oslo, sang his part of Johnny Cash’s ‘Jackson’ flawlessly, as a lanky white stripper struggled to sing hers. All the while a hefty black dancer named Blue was doing the robot behind them.
People were having a good time, and I was taking it all in.
With the aid of a few unnecessarily large tips most of my friends managed to get on stage, and as last call was being announced three of my friends were on stage singing ‘Take me home tonight,’ by Eddie Money. (if you play the below video, I guarantee the song will be stuck in your head.)
It seemed like I had an undefeatable smile, as my friends were experiencing the overwhelming maximum fun that we know as karaoke.
Seconds later my attention was focused on a wet glob of gum stuck that someone had thrown into my hair. Angry, slightly drunk, and frustrated that I wasn’t focusing on my friends’ performance I tried to gather myself.
I could start a scene. Or I could let it go, walk home and apply peanut butter.
I can’t imagine the this person's intentions. I’m a social-setting chameleon, and I was wearing the least flashy of my western style snap up shirts. I hadn't said anything derogatory, and had tipped the bartenders well.
I glanced around with a pathetically disappointed look, hoping to instill guilt in the perpetrators heart. I’m not sure what I wanted other than a confrontation and an apology. The thought of getting on stage, taking the mic, and figuring out who did it crossed my mind. I’ve been in zero fights, but I wasn’t worried about that. People that throw gum aren’t good fighters.
Unemployed me getting in a barroom fight at the Clermont would be a treasured story for decades, but sadly drunken altercations aren’t my M.O. (which my brother recently told me stands for modus operandi).
Instead, I fruitlessly picked at the gum, and when everyone got off stage asked if they were ready to go.
Walking home I did my best to forget about it, and was relieved to see peanut butter sitting in my cabinet when we arrived. A few minutes later the situation was over, and I was peacefully sleeping.
I was wrong when I said that it doesn’t matter if you use crunchy or smooth peanut butter. If you use crunchy, you’re left with a bunch of peanuts in your shower.
Some things matter, and some don’t.
5 months ago