My roommate works at a fancy coffee shop in The Mission. It's an ideal environment to get work done in or to simply wind down and read a newspaper. Amazingly quiet to the point where the running of the faucet sounds deafening when breaking the comforting silence. The bulk of the patrons are regulars that are fine with the three dollar cup of coffee that is offered here. Lovely place.
As my roommate was closing the store one night, there were three regulars lagging behind, trying to finish up any last second internet chores. They are Hoan, Chantelle, and Dean. As Danni, Kristina and I were leaving to grab a drink, we decided to socialize as a collective clan at a bar called Dirty Thieves. All was going wonderfully as I talked with Hoan, an iphone application enterpreneur, about poker, expected value, soccer, facebook applications, etc. From all that I know of him, it seems that we will probably see eachother in the near future because of our similar interests. Chantelle is an actress/musician and a strikingly entertaining conversationalist. We talked about her friend, named Richard Johnson, who plays poker for a living out in Los Angeles and about her experience with the stock market.
Last, but certainly not least, we have Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. Random stimulating conversations were sprouting about with everyone but Dean. I don't know enough about him to gather a concrete opinion of him, but it's safe to say at this point that he brings about obscure perspectives and opinions for the sole reason of being obscure. He's extremely argumentitive and I have to assume that he has a great deal of experience with it. Moving on, I mentioned in passing from one conversation to the next that Outkast is one of the premier pop/hip-hop groups of my time: a simple statement and nearly impossible to argue otherwise. Not for Dean, though. Dean mentioned in an overly abrasive and flat-out threatening tone that he doesn't agree with Outkast as a pop group. Fucking Outkast. My guess is that I crossed words with him during his never ending quest to become the world's most interesting and inspiring intellectual. And I certainly wish him success in such an endeavor. Just not around me. The argument escalated to an absurd level and I left it alone.
Toward the end of the night we were all parting ways to head toward the homeland. As I shook hands or hugged everyone, I faced Dean and tried to shake his (I'm-sure-more-wonderful-than-mine) hand. He declined in such a way that wasn't nearly upsetting. It was sad to think that someone, somewhere in this world, is potentially capable of making decisions even slightly similar to his. Genuinely disheartening. I did what most wouldn't and wrapped my hands around him in "the bear-hug" position and squeezed lightly for about three seconds. A perfect hug. Five stars.
A few days have passed and I've been patiently awaiting a time to give him his gift. Outkast's "Stankonia" album wrapped in Valentine's Day paper.
Until next time.
