I WILL BE POSTING A PAGE A DAY OF SOME EXPERIMENTS I'VE WRITTEN IN THE FUTURE.
Samir looked down at his Blackberry. 10:31 p.m. His cousin and wife were supposed to meet at 10:00 p.m. They were officially beyond being fashionably late. He had warned Rohit that if he were late for his birthday, he would officially fire him from existence.
“What does that mean?” Rohit asked.
“It means be on time.”
Samir enjoyed humor that was often times preposterous. He would join completely disparate elements together in adsurdist impromptu off-key torch songs, or better yet, respond to someone’s quizzical stare with his favorite catch phrase to disguise his humor’s ineffectual punch lines with a rather loud and knowing shout of “It’s cubism!”
“On time for what?” Rohit asked.
“My birthday, asshole.”
“I have to pick up Lotti. Then we’ll be there.”
Samir was now texting on his Blackberry. He had finished the “are” in “Where are you?” when Rohit and Lotti arrived behind him.
“Haaappy Birthday, Saaamiir!” Rohit cooed in an overly sentimental way.
“Samir!” Lotti said with a frown of dissatisfaction. “We got stuck in traffic for godasakes.”
“You could have texted,” Samir said and held up his phone above his head.
“I was driving,” Rohit said, and narrowed his eyes at the phone in his cousin’s hand. “I cant’ text and drive.”
“Why can’t you–”
“I told him not to,” Lotti said, and pulled her husband away from Rohit towards the front of the line at the club. They walked a few steps before one of the bouncers with a black Kangol hat, stopped them by putting his hand up. The bouncer put his other hand to his ear. He tilted his head down to whisper into a microphone in his collar. He looked back up at Samir and Lotti. He then motioned to the two of them to come forward.
“ID,” the bouncer said.
Samir and Lotti pulled out their ID’s. They were frisked by another bouncer and then lead into the club, where another bouncer took a ticket, and then another bouncer stood a few feet in the club and said, “Have a goodnight.” All the bouncers were dressed in black and over 220 pounds.
“It’s like a military base,” Lotti joked.
“Yeah,” Samir said, and looked at yet another bouncer within the club.
Identity Politics and Zen
4 days ago