It was a few years ago, back in so-said “wilder years”, and I was at a bar, a downstairs one, and listening to bad conversations that the people I was with were having, and trying to figure out who in the bar was gay, and figuring who that was was me, I decided to just make the most of it and tried to find a seat near where my friends were talking, enough to still appear to be a part of the group, but not close enough to have to hear what they were talking about.
Some girl had left her wildly oversized purse on a chair. I eyed the chair for twenty minutes. No one came for it.
I decided that there was no reason for that bag to take up one of the few spots to sit in the joint. It wasn’t like it was out walking all day and needed a break. I, on the other hand, had been out walking all day and needed a break.
I walked over to the chair and nonchalantly took the bag by the hand and rested it quietly on the floor next to it. I decided that I was simply doing a decidedly honest and civil thing:
I was watching out for this girl’s bag.
I spent my time looking around at the bar, trying to figure out who owned the purse. Was it the painfully drunk one trying to hit on the only dude without a baseball hat on? The one dancing to The Smiths like she was still in high school? The one passed out in the corner?
Long story short: The girl had a half eaten bag of Fritos in her purse. I love Fritos and was hungry after a rather unbearable attempt at LES dining.
I ate her Fritos.
I left her $2 for her trouble, each bill smeared slightly with grease.
