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dude, she got a dell
November 29, 2005
i just came out of the smokeshop at halcyon, and the crowd has thickened slightly, a skin of random nightowl humanity cooling atop the normal pudding of students and the affectationally disaffected intelligentsia.
couple snuggles on couch. blue flame flickers under tableside s'mores. cold blast of air as the door opens and more pour in, clouds of breath dissipating at the threshold. a table of three strikingly attractive women, sitting with adam dell, michael dell's younger brother.
years ago, when i was in my last year of my law school purgatorial confinement, i knew of the guy. i met him, but first i met christy.
christy showed up at the law school one day that summer, with her mother, wanting a tour of the law school. at the time, i was heavily involved in recruiting and admissions for the law school, helping people into the place i loathed myself for being in, encouraging them to enter the space and life that i so desperately wanted out of. go figure.
at the time, there was no one officially available to give the tour, so she was turned away. but, being me, it bugged me. she was tall, striking, and she wore a hat, which was completely out of the realm of my normal experience.
i ran down the hall to catch up to her and her mother, slowed just in time to look nonchalant, and offered to give the grand tour myself.
christy and i became fast friends, though only friends. we still share connections, some of them dubious (many friends know her by an epithet that would give too much away here).
my enfatuation eventually passed,at first out of practicality, then out of sanity as i got to know her better, though we have always remained friends and i care for her dearly.
but before that happened, we went to a party, one to mark the beginning of the law school career for these freshlaws. christy and i had already solidified a friendship over the summer. we showed up together. i think she wore a hat again, which few people can pull off, but she clearly could.
my friend billy had entered the law school that year, as well, and i had met a new kid named paul garvey, the grandson of the famous leader marcus garvey. i bought christy a drink, then let her wander off among her new classmates, as i sat down at a window booth with paul and billy. they asked about christy, and i answered - at that point, possibilities and scenarios and pipe dreams still swirled through my mind.
wait. crap... he's heading this way. he sees me. actually recognizes me - do i really not look unrecognizably better than i did in law school? he extends his hand... he's almost able to see my notebook, and a tsunami of adrenaline floods me -
i make eye contact, rise slightly from the barstool, my left hand coming to rest gently on the keyboard, pressing the keys softly and smoothly to flip to another application, hiding these words and memories and judgment and yeah, a little jealousy years past.
i introduce him to my friends here clustered at the end of the bar, who i had just related this same story to, which in turn spurred me to tell it here.
he's warm, more than merely cordial. he remembered me from law school, even if not by name. he's kind and attentive to my friends. he doesn't practice law, and i tell him my estimation of him rose accordingly. he says he lives in manhattan (why not say new york city? is that a manhattan/nyc thing?), as an investment something or the other.
he leaves. i feel a little bad about the stories i have to tell about him.
so, that night, years ago, over ten years ago, now, i'm talking about this girl, and billy and paul look out the window, and they start laughing. i look out, and there's a white porsche parked prominently right in front of the club we're in, just outside our window, and adam dell is holding the passenger door open for christy.
my friends laughed, and patted me on the shoulder, and bought me a beer and said, "sorry man, that's just too fuckin' funny. but hey, don't sweat it. what do you do? forget about it."
christy would later tell me that he ran hot and cold with her, until she came to the realization that he "just wanted to fuck a gentile, not date one."
he gets his two glasses of white wine, makes a point to get change to leave a good tip for the other adam, the bartender here. goodbyes and "nice to meet you"'s seem genuine, and he moves off, and a few comments are made in his wake.
ten years, and christy's on her second marriage. he's in manhattan, and i wonder how muh this story bears a relation to him. i'm sitting here, hiding this memory of the past with an email to a girl i just met.
the past is always flowing into the future, and the future just opens so wide with every passing moment. people come and go and stay, clean white car doors swing open and closed, and we sit and watch through the window with the memories and the friends that persist, each laughing at the jokes, the irony, even the disappointments, slapping me on the shoulder, and saying, "dude, that's just too fuckin' funny. but hey, don't sweat it. what do you do? forget about it."
Posted by Rob at November 29, 2005 10:37 PM