And Now for Something Completely Different was the title of Monty Python’s 1971 movie. With so many different people out there, how can anyone still be different? “Be yourself, everyone else is already taken,” is attributed to Oscar Wilde, but some refute he said it. Thelonius Monk said, “A genius is the one most like himself.” What if I’m like everyone else? How do I strive to be different and avoid being different for the sole purpose of being different? Different, becomes more different when it escapes the same cocoon.

***

When I watch Jeopardy! I probably get 7 out of 10 questions, but when I stop to talk to a neighbor I’ve lived near for four years, and I talk to him an average of two times a week, I struggle to remember his name.

***

I have no ability to fix my own car. Three of the four automobiles I’ve owned have been lemons. My truck started almost every day for 22-years. After 22-years, the looks of a car begin to subside, no matter how much you general maintenance you apply, it’s not going to look new forever. Even though driving a sun-bleached truck damaged my image a little I held on tight, because it always started. I try to inform my son to gain knowledge, so you’re at the mercy of another as rarely as possible, I have nothing to teach him. My car starting almost seems like a miracle to me. I know it’s not on one level, but I close my eyes and turn the ignition, as if the sounds of an engine turning is magic. I wish I gained basic automotive knowledge, but if you want it bad enough, you go get it. I obviously never wanted it bad enough, so when it doesn’t start I have to financially plead with others to make it happen and trust that they know what they’re doing.

***  

The “I was so drunk one night that I …” stories were some of my favorites at one point in my life. Other people still enjoy those stories, from the past. If we’re still drinking heavily, “I’m drunk right now!” (Cue the laugh track), it’s not as funny. I will write something most won’t about their drinking years, I enjoyed them, and I had a lot of fun. We spent years talking, drinking, followed by more talking and more drinking, but for the life of me I can’t remember what we were always going on about. 

Luke was loaded the night he met Laura. Laura was beautiful, so beautiful that she was normally out of Luke’s reach, but she was drunk too. She was so drunk she was into Luke’s jokes. Luke, it should be noted, was a very funny person, a naturally funny man, but his humor rarely translated to women. 

I don’t know the difference between a good-looking guy and the average to below average, but as funny as Luke was, women didn’t gravitate to him the way they would’ve if he was as funny and gorgeous. Why does the caged bird sing, because he’s not as gorgeous as the high school quarterback who can sling.  

When Laura didn’t move away from him after his first few jokes, Luke moved in. He spent the rest of the night closing. Luke knew Laura had a few drinks in her, but he had no idea how loaded she was, until vomited on him. She didn’t get any on him, but the effect was the same. Luke was a real trooper though, he kept kissing on her. He said he didn’t remember much from that night, except that her vomit tasted like peppermint schnapps. Is that romantic or erotic?

***

When I was young and drunk, party hosts used to try to prevent me from leaving their party. They said things like, “If you leave, what will we talk about?” They stopped short of calling me the life of the party, but their attempts to get me to stay always boosted my self-esteem. Flash forward a couple years, and hosts were a lot more understanding when I told them I was preparing to leave. My most recent examples of this progression involved hosts saying, “All right then, see ya later” when I informed them I was preparing to leave, and they were looking over my shoulder before they hit the word then.

***

“Hey Gary,” Chad said. Chad was waving at me, in a parking lot, from his one-ton truck, as if we were two long lost friends. It confused me, because we were never friends, but we did have a long since lost relationship of sorts.

“Hey Chad,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“I just got gastric bypass,” Chad said leaning out the window. He lifted his shirt to show me his scars. The smile on his face was one normally associated with showing off a child’s baseball trophy. 

“Next time just wave,” I said.

He said, “Huh?”

“Next time you see someone you know, just wave.”