34

On to the next scene!

A short metro ride across town, he entered the artsy fartsy district, where there was always a lot of interesting and one might say, zany, goings on to catch the eye and capture the imagination. Things in windows, things hanging off light posts, distracting things. Mailboxes and fire hydrants painted and stenciled with all sorts of colors and designs. Oh, nearly everything had been stenciled in the artsy fartsy district, and that which had not been stenciled had been stickered.

It had a more stimulating and inspiring atmosphere than the numbness of downtown with all the meatheads and preppies.

It didn’t take long to find an event, or what looked like an event. On the street, he found a nebulous swarm of skinny young men and women, smoking, some truly young, some young at heart, outside a narrow, featureless building. A gallery. They wore colorful, interesting clothes and scarves and hats, interesting pants and jackets that looked vintage but somehow fit just right. Bicycles were chained all over, anywhere something stuck out of the ground, there you’d find a bicycle chained up.

Adam strolled confidently into the gallery in his regular people clothes. A skinny androgyne stood by the door, collecting cover charges, stamping hands, bored out of his/her wits. Two other skinny androgynes served drinks from a large silver ice-filled bucket on a long white table, bored out of their wits. He grabbed a pair of drinks, paid eleven bucks, outrageous!

He stood there in his regular people clothes, double fisting. He figured he must be the most interesting looking person there, being the only one who looked any different. He figured and sipped.

The place was packed, and an excitement born of self-importance and fast, loud conversation cycloned through the humid, stuffy room. About ten framed photographs graced the limited wall space. He walked over and checked out each one in turn. Little handwritten notes with messages like -450 or -725 were pinned beside each photo, outrageous!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, a gallery.

If the downtown people presented themselves like peacocks the artists and scenesters in this place presented themselves like lions. All puffed-up with scarves or furry necked leather jackets or big puffed-up egos. But, Adam wasn’t saying, he was just saying, you know? Who was he to yeah, yeah, yeah, a judge.

Adam always had this thing at parties. He wasn’t necessarily the most talkative person in the world, but he became a seeker. His policy would be to look out for the most interesting looking guy or girl standing around not talking to anyone.

In high school Adam had had a policy. Sit next to the quiet kid. The kid with no friends. That kid always had something interesting to say, because they didn’t ever have anybody to talk to, just all the time in the world to study stuff, feel left out and think about everything. Besides, if that kid blew up and went on a shooting spree, who do you think that kid is going to leave off his list?

Of course, this Adam didn’t necessarily have any direct experience with such matters. He’d never been to a party before. He’d never gone to high school. He was a couple months old. But he retained the memories of someone with all the experience he--

“How’s it going?”

It appeared somebody else there played Adam’s game. There was a quick moment of ‘who me?’ then Adam replied:

“Not too bad.”

“So,” Adam’s new friend said, “what do you think?” and held his arms out expansively.

“It’s alright,” Adam took a sip from the drink in his left hand. He was getting better at holding things with his left hand, “that painting of the old guy sitting in front of the brick wall kind of stirs something in me. Er … I mean, photo.”

Laughter.

“The one where the old guy’s sitting with his cane,” the new friend said with a smile, “kind of looking off to the side? Stirs something up in you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “I don’t know what, though.”

The guy laughed again, “I guess it doesn’t really matter what though, hey?”

The guy cheersed Adam and the two of them clanged drinks, and sipped.

The place really was hot and humid. He realized part of the excitement of a place like this was the sensation of getting warm in the ears and face, like when he used to get hyper as a kid. Er … when the old Adam got hyper as a kid. This Adam was kind of just like a baby.

Baby Adam turned to mention something about the warm/cool color contrasts of another photo but the guy had cheersed him and left.

He stood alone for about ten more minutes, sipping his two drinks, wondering if he would ever talk to anybody again. The tiny, sardine-packed world around him nattered away.