There I am in a glamorous apartment having lunch with Famous actor and Famous writer. I'm kinda beside myself cause I love and admire them, and their work. That means I'm trying to behave myself.
Not burping after a discreet drag from the flask.
Not using the boarding house reach for the mozzarella cheese.
Not using my knife like a conductor's baton during conversation.
Yanno, the stuff you're supposed to do without having to think about it.
Lunch happens and we're all regaling each other with tales of triumph and the woes of our enemies (cause those are the best kind of course.) Coffee is served.
I am talking animatedly. I'm in peak form.
I pour cream in my coffee and just a dash/pinch of sugar. Then figure what the hell, and put in a big teaspoon. One might even say heaping.
I take a big ol' gulp.
And realize I've dipped my spoon into the bowl of salt, not sugar.
What to do?
Spew on Famous One or Famous Two?
That doesn't seem like the right idea.
Spew on Brooks Sherman, my boon companion in crime sitting next to me?
Better choice, but really not all that good either.
So, I swallow. Oh yes, indeed, nothing like a good swig of salty coffee.
I pray no one notices.
Only then, I hear a small noise from my left.
Well mannered, well appointed, gentleman Brooks Sherman, following my lead
has ALSO put salt in his coffee.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
In the cab ride home, he fixes me with a stare that soon will be feared by editors across the land.
"I'd like to discuss my raise."