This post was originally written in May but never posted. It's awfully nonspecific, but it does give a wonderful anecdotal explanation of the magic that surrounds my friend Chris Murray.
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Tonight I tried to have a cultural experience.
I got in the car with Chris Murray at 7:29 pm, planning to attend a play at Artist's Repertory Theatre at 8. At 7:48, we pulled into a gas station. Instead of a gas attendant, the man who approached the driver's-side window was a police officer.
20 minutes later, we had missed the show and we were standing under the overhang at the quick-mart watching Chris' car get towed to the police impound. Chris's crime, and I'm not kidding, exaggerating, fabricating, or specifying, was being an irresponsible dipshit. He was driving well and within the law, except for being an idiot.
Anyway, I did what any decent friend would: I bought him some drinks. Then he bought me some drinks. Then I encouraged him to flirt with some nice young lady. He explained that it was a bad night for such attempts, and I pointed out that he actually had a lot of karma coming his way at this point. He was struck by my flawless logic, and proceeded directly to the video poker machine, where he turned $8 into $300. No kidding. One can imagine where our night might have gone from there, and it would probably be a relatively accurate representation of how much fun we actually had. Needless to say, that $300 didn't end up helping much with the towing fees.
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