Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Mr. Miami Vice

He was a fairly nice-looking guy, dark hair, 40-ish, except the top four buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a decent amount of thick, curly chest hair, and he sported a fairly thick gold chain around his neck. I met him at a restaurant he chose. He said he knew the owner and that he got special meals prepared for him that weren't on the menu.
He ordered my meal for me without consulting me and was rude to the waitress.
Twice. His fancy, not-on-the-menu dinner arrived and looked just like steamed vegetables over rice. He said he just moved from Miami and started to brag about penthouse apartments, various boats, and trips around the world. He then mentioned how he was nervous because he was having his car shipped up here. He had never shipped a car before, but didn't
want to drive it and put all those miles on it. He's worried, what if something
should happen? My curiosity is now piqued after all his grand tales of wealth and success. What kind of car IS this? An antique? A Porsche? A Ferrari? Turns out his baby was a 1998
aqua-with-white-convertible-top Geo Tracker. The date was officially over when I said with a straight face, Huh. I always thought that to be a 16-year-old girls car.

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