"That's loud, huh?" John Boy asked me. "I don't really like loud music."
"Oh, that's a shame," I warned, "because we stand and dance down front and it is pretty loud there."
"I guess I can deal with it this once," he said taking my hand in his to walk in the bar.
Individually, my friends were sweet, nice women, but together as a group on Girls Night Out, they were a rough crowd with mouths like sailors. They can be downright ruthless as a whole, especially to someone such as John Boy appearing in his khaki pants, thin belt and pastel checked oxford shirt.
"Where'd you find Opie?" asked one friend who started to laugh. "Mayberry?"
"No, he's not from THAT show. This is John," I said, introducing him around and exchanging names. "And he has a contact buzz from your smoke," I informed them.
He giggled right along with them. And he started drinking kamakazis when someone bought a pitcher.
Not only was my group of 5 or so friends there that night, but it seemed no matter what part of the bar, whatever room I went to or walked through, there were more people who knew me who asked where I found Opie.
So I had the wrong t.v. show in mind. You get the picture. John Boy. Opie. Opie could have grown up to be John Boy. Or vise verse.
Opie was conversational, but he said that was probably just the pot talking and ordinarily he didn't relate to people. He relocated to Jersey, then came back home.
"Do you know Bruce?" my wise-ass friends asked him. "What about Little Steven? Do you like "The Disciples of Soul?" And then, "do you relate to trees then? Inanimate objects? Cows? Sheep?"
"Come on," I said, pulling him away to an open space at the bar a little further away for his comfort before he got wiplash from shaking his head no.
No sooner did we sit down, Norman leaped from the stage to the bar top and danced down the long bar and then back up the bar playing guitar. I couldn't hear or understand what Opie was telling me. Norm stepped on his hand on the bar? Not just once on the way down but a second time on the way back up?
"You didn't MOVE your hand at least the second time after you already had it stepped on once?" I asked pointlessly. Opie just giggled and shook his head no once again.
About then, Norman started to get raunchy. G Spot. Oral Sex. Having sex with his high school friend in her basement when her dad walked in on them. No topic was off limits. Opie was laughing? At Norm? This was not how I imagined it would be. Opie was having fun and there was supposed to be no fun allowed.
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