Surviving Thanksgiving II; The Residual Effects

Well, I’ve made it out alive.  It just got…a little bit crazy these past few days.  But now my roommates have returned, as have most of my friends.  I think things are on the up and up.

I actually made it all the way to midtown for an Estihana sushi roll, veggie egg roll, Sapporo beer and a steak (I told you food was running low, I was hungry.).  I went to see an old high school friend, with whom I go to this particular restaurant whenever she’s in town.  

After dinner, when I got on the elevator at 181st street, one of my random stranger friends got on right after me.  This was the kind of random stranger friend that I recognize even before they come up to me to relate intimate details about my life.

As with most of my random stranger friends, I wasn’t sure if I actually knew the guy or not.  I looked for a kippah and saw none, so of course I assumed he was just some white dude living in The Heights.  Then I realized random white people don’t live in The Heights unless they go to YU.

I tried to remember where I knew him from.  As with all my encounters with random stranger friends, I thought back to high school and my early years at YU to try to place him.  No luck.

I started to fear that I had become a random stranger friend to someone else.  What if he only looked like a familiar YU guy, and I really had never met him before?

I tried to catch his eye, maybe jog his memory.  He was in front of me on the elevator, though, so this was pointless.

As we got of the elevator, I decided the past few days in solitary confinement had left me desperate for human contact.  This truly was some random YU guy, and not a relic friend from my past.

But, passing the fruit stand on 183rd (or whatever street that its on); he glanced back and looked me in the eye, as if to say “Yeah, I know who you are.  What are you gonna do about it?”  

“Nothing,” I thought, “Its all just residual hallucinations from Thanksgiving”

That’s when I heard him pick up his phone and answer in an Australian accent.  It was GABE! I did know him.  From sophomore year (or something).  Sadly, though, he turned right on 184th and was lost.  

Will I see ol’ Gabe again?  Will I ever figure out in what year I actually knew him, or if indeed I was still delirious?  Did I actually leave my apartment at all, or was this all some extended delusion from staying in my apartment too long?

Stay tuned and find out.


Sammy C. said...

Acid rules all

Anonymous said...

Do you think that your posts about "random stranger friends" hav reduced the number of people who say helllo to you "randomly"?
Because I know I have refrained from speaking to the great and popular grange since I read your post. I don't want to be "that guy".
Somehow you've turned saying hello to a classmate into a socially awkward experience.

Grange said...

Dear Anonymous,
I by no means, meant to alienate friends, strangers or stranger friends. While I have, of late, seen less of my random stranger friends, I have also seen less of my friend friends. I attribute this to being stuck in my apartment writing papers (I have 20 pages due over 2 weeks...). I do miss them, and hope to see more of them (you) when I emerge from writing induced hibernation.