Disgust and Desire (ch. 12)

Chapter 12

Photo by Nirmal Rajendharkumar on Unsplash

12.

Sam left James Langton’s apartment at nearly 6 PM with $120 cash in his pocket. James had fed him after they were done. A turkey sandwich. It was good. They chatted another half hour and then it was over. They promised to chat again soon. James would find him in the park, or else Sam could come over any time.

Sam took off searching for a bar. He needed alcohol badly. His arms and back and shoulders were sore as Hell. He hadn’t done manual labor like that in probably half a year. Since the Pandemic had started. In a way it felt good. And he was thrilled about the cash.

He walked west to Amsterdam and headed north. Just past 115^th Street, passing Columbia’s Warren Hall, he found a bar. A student place with outdoor seating called Arts and Crafts Beer Parlor. A dozen young people sat out there, at round white plastic tables, gripping glass pints of brew, chatting loudly all at once. They seemed hopelessly young. God, at 39 he felt like an ancient sage. Kids seemed to get younger and younger to Sam. Or maybe it was just that he got older and older. Either way, 25-year-olds seemed like teens him to now, and 18-21-year-olds seemed hardly born. They were so dependent on GPS and the internet and Facebook and Snapchat and YouTube and Google.

He found an empty table and sat. A waitress approached. “What’ll it be?” She didn’t bother to ask for ID. He looked 50.

“Three shots of Southern Comfort and a pint of Pabst Blue Ribbon.”