vignette 6 (I love New York)

She rushed in a cab to make it in time to the reading in Ft. Greene. Up a winding whitewashed staircase and onto the polished wood floor she stepped quietly as not to interrupt the reader, who was just finishing her first person story. She was late, but noticed her friend and they sat together in the front row at the pause between readers. The short essays were good, the last 2 were the best and the most risque. She listened in support as her friend read aloud, when midway through the story a man sat next to her. He was late as well. She glanced over and recognized the disheveled salt and pepper hair and glasses. It was Ira Glass. The story ended, the hostess thanked everyone, and then it was out for drinks. The group comprised of about 7 people, all writers, all the kind of people that take delight in noticing funny details. The conversation topics ranged from fraternity boys, to nose bleeds. At one point Ira held her arm and said that she looked like someone he knew in Chicago that was pure evil. The girls asked if she wanted to skateboard on Saturday. One man had the perfect feathery pompadour and ate in a clockwise pattern. Mrs. Glass had noteworthy eyebrows, black frame glasses, and a huge smile. She talked about loving to teach teenagers and going back to grad school. At 11pm they all said goodnight outside the German bar on Fulton. The cars kept driving, the trains kept running, the rain kept falling.