It was the last night before went somewhere.
I guess it was kind of an occasion. I met my friend Tom for some drinks. We went to a dive bar, like we usually did. We decided to take the subway, back closer to where we lived. I can remember standing on the platform. It was dark, out in the industrial part of Brooklyn. Very quiet and calm. The train track looked like it could be from 1901 or 2001.
We had to sit there for a while and I was worried I'd lose my slight buzz. I was trying to calm down on the cigarettes, but I was smoking one. Tom too.
We got on the train that would take us to Carroll Gardens. We went to a bar we'd been a few times. A cool little hole in the wall. They had some good music playing. The bartender was a fat guy. He had a beard too. He knew Tom and instantly started talking about the mixes of music he'd put in the jukebox. He went on and on about it, and we smoked and smoked.
Finally a woman I recognized came in. She came into the copy shop I was working in at the time. She was the press agent for a local musician who wrote children's songs. She came in almost every day.
She was a little goofy. A little big, and she had a big head. She was cute, though I'd never thought of her being pretty. She was nice enough, but I bit glazed over. Like you'd talk to her and there'd be kind of a catch. A lag. Not stupid, but slow.