From: richh@netcom.com (richh)
Subject: RICHH:  NOT A SINGLE ONE
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 92 20:59:45 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
Followup-To: alt.prose.d

     Warning--the following contains little, if any, asb-specific content.
Why is it here, then?  Why indeed.



     This isn't so much a full-blown trip report as a specific
incident.
     Was in Cleveland visiting that one saltgirl loredich creature. 
We were slated to meet some other netters one night at this
coffeeshop, called Arabica.  We showed up a little early, having
just come from a Rocky-Bullwinkle festival at a local theater,
sitting in front of these people who were just liking it way too
much.
     We sat at a table in the corner, passing a vanilla shake back
and forth.  We didn't know what these people we were meting looked
like, but when this one pudgy, pony-tailed, pasty-looking guy came
in and started looking around, we were certain he was one of them. 
Julie and I looked at each other and she got up and walked over to
him and held out her hand.  
     "Kevin?  Julie."
     "Julie?  Mark."
     "Oh no.  I'm sorry.  It just looked like you were looking for
someone,. and we--"
     "I am, there he is now..."  Mark walked over and sat next to
this clean-looking, sunglasses-wearing, artsy type.
     Julie returned and said, "Was that a huge social faux pas?"
     "No.  Only if you'd wiped your forearm across your forehead
and said "WHEW!..."
     So, our friends arrived and it turned out we liked them quite
a lot and had a pleasant, chatty evening.
     
     A few days later we were on Coventry street(noted for its many
quirky shops and parking meters) when we passed another Arabica. 
A man rose from a table outside and walked over to us.  He took off
his sunglasses and said, "Hi.  I saw you two the other night at
Arabica.  I was meeting my costume designer..."
     "Mark," I said.
     "Yes.  Mark.  My name's Miles--"  I swore he said 'Davis' but
Julie says no way.  
     "Rich."
     "Julie."
     "I'm casting a play.  Tonight is the second night of
auditions.  I was wondering," he said to me, "have you ever done
any acting before?"
     "Well, on this word my eyes lit up and I said, "Acting?  I
*love* to act.  I acted in college.  you want me in your play. 
Cool.  Do I* get to play the dashing romantic lead?  Will I save
the beautiful damsel?"  I picked up a cane and pointed it like a
rapier.  "Will I be D'artAGNan?!"  I thrusted and parried a bit. 
"Ooh, a play.  Is it a play I've heard of?"
     He said, "I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds here, but it's
The Elephant Man."
     I kid you not.  Well, Julie nearly doubled over and started
laughing, because she knew what was coming next.  She couldn't look
at the guy.
     I said, "The Elephant Man, eh?  Well, you know, we had a bad
experience with that play.  Remember when Bowie was playing it on
Broadway?"
     He nodded.
     "Well, I got a hold of these tickets and we went and saw it
and it was *such* a ripoff.  Total ripjob--"  Julie dug her nails
into the back of my thigh.
     "Ripoff?"
     "Yeah," I said.  "That whole play, he didn't eat a single
peanut.  Total rip--"
     So Miles laughed and I said, "Actually, I couldn't do it.  I
live in Pennsylvania...I'm just visiting."
     "Pennsylvania," said Miles.  "You a Quaker?"
     "No, but I like their oats.  Actually, even if I were in
Cleveland, I find it demeaning to take on any role which requires
me to wear a snout..."
     Julie whispered something about the 'Cyrano fiasco' and Miles
realized that we were fucking with him at that point and he left. 
So did we.
     "Overstep *this*, Miles."


RICHH
--true story, I swear it

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