Drop #142: Long Hair

IMG_1183Tom and I were walking through Union Square when the thin, long-haired guy from Saturday night saw us and hurried over, all smiles. He looked like he wanted to give us hugs but checked himself and settled for two vigorous handshakes.

‘Wow, how are you guys?’ John asked. Or was it Jake? ‘I’m still recovering from the weekend. What a night!’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It sure was a crazy one.’

It really had been. Tom and I had started drinking in the afternoon at a bar on Avenue A before heading over to some house party where we had champagne and wine and smoked a couple of blunts. That’s where we met the long-haired guy. The three of us left together, with three girls, and cabbed it to Jake’s apartment—or was it Jim?—where we drank insane amounts of whiskey while we finished a gram of blow one of the girls had produced. At around 1 a.m. we went to some club on the west side where one of the other girls knew the bartender. That was the girl I made out with. Fit brunette with a slight lisp. Tom hooked up with two or three ladies at the club, and Jim—or was it Jack?—almost went home with a very tall and beautiful black girl with a shaved head, but lost her trying to score more drugs from a dodgy looking dude in some weird private room in the back. 6 a.m. the three of us got burgers at a diner on 9th Ave before calling it a night.

‘You’re telling me!’ Jack said—or was it Jay? We should do it again some time.’

‘Sure.’ I said.

‘I got to run though. I’m late. Was great running into you two.’


‘I’ll drop you line.’


He shook our hands vigorously again, smiled again, and walked off briskly.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Tom turned to me. ‘Who the fuck was that chick?’ he asked, squinting. ‘Not the most attractive specimen, is she?’

 by EM Vireo

About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

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