J extended his right arm, palm facing the sky.
"If you find this to be bad then you ought to thank me for insiting on that final drink." Berkan let out two burps. He then covered the top of his face using both his hands. J followed suit.
The drizzle was just heavy enough to to make you walk with your head down. That's probably why J didn't notice the bar until it was right in front of them.
"This is where Gabriel likes to hang out." J could sense the excitement in Berkan's voice.
Inside there wasn't a cardigan to be found. There were hardly any women either, and the raggedly looking men hunched over unusually large beer glasses looking hyper engaged in whatever the person on the other side was yelling about.
There was no music. But it was so much louder than The Boar Hall.
-----
Tim hated this place. He looked around at the humid sausagefest and thought about how now he hated almost everything he used to cherish. He used to cherish smoking his Bazzy Strike unfiltered cigarettes between writing sessions feeling like he was finally working on something great. He had cherished walking through the evening drizzle towards the Rusty Latrine. He had admired the creatives who shared creative ideas and drank here.
Now all he saw were a bunch of drunks. Creative? Yes maybe. But at the end of the day creativity didn't matter. He was fed up with it. He looked down at his virgin tonic water thinking that it would be his last at The Latrine.
"You seem to be the only one drinking something clear."
"It's just soda water."
"Mmm. I see."
"Don't worry. I'm not an alcoholic. I just don't feel it tonight."
"I see."
"I haven't felt it for awhile now."
"I could tell."
"You're new here aren't you?"
"You could tell?"
"Kind of. You don't look like the rest of the people here." he pointed at the drunken, hunched over crowd.
"I just got in. Literally today. I like this place. The O District."
Tim laughed. "Well there you go. That's a sure tell sign that you're new. Newcomers either love The O or hate it. Depends on how much you can tolerate rain I guess."
"Well I came to Streak City wanting to write. I thought I might write the kinds of books that Ferriss and Robbins writes. But who knows. Maybe I'll want to write some fiction too. Isn't that why you're in the O District?"
Tim finished his virgin tonic and put the glass on the bartop. J thought about offering to buy him a drink. He wanted to hear his story. But given that the stranger had already said he wasn't feeling it tonight J held back his offer.
"Want to grab a coffee sometime? I'm over at the Estuary Boarding House."
Tim imagined himself immediately saying no. I'm on my way out of this fucking shit hole. Not just The Fucking Latrine but I mean Streak City as a whole. Why the hell would I want to waste my time grabbing a coffee with you. You random newcomer.
But he said, "yes" instead. "Sure."
They exchanged names.
"I'm Tim. Tim Subiaco."
"I'm J."
Tim said his goodbye and left The Rusty Latrine. While walking aimlessly through the streets he thought about why he had agreed to coffee with J. He thought about how earlier that evening he had been struck by another newcomer. The starry eyed kid that he had gifted his umbrella too. He felt a tinge of nostalgia, which made him wonder. How could one be nostalgic for a place they had yet to leave?
"If you find this to be bad then you ought to thank me for insiting on that final drink." Berkan let out two burps. He then covered the top of his face using both his hands. J followed suit.
The drizzle was just heavy enough to to make you walk with your head down. That's probably why J didn't notice the bar until it was right in front of them.
"This is where Gabriel likes to hang out." J could sense the excitement in Berkan's voice.
Inside there wasn't a cardigan to be found. There were hardly any women either, and the raggedly looking men hunched over unusually large beer glasses looking hyper engaged in whatever the person on the other side was yelling about.
There was no music. But it was so much louder than The Boar Hall.
-----
Tim hated this place. He looked around at the humid sausagefest and thought about how now he hated almost everything he used to cherish. He used to cherish smoking his Bazzy Strike unfiltered cigarettes between writing sessions feeling like he was finally working on something great. He had cherished walking through the evening drizzle towards the Rusty Latrine. He had admired the creatives who shared creative ideas and drank here.
Now all he saw were a bunch of drunks. Creative? Yes maybe. But at the end of the day creativity didn't matter. He was fed up with it. He looked down at his virgin tonic water thinking that it would be his last at The Latrine.
"You seem to be the only one drinking something clear."
"It's just soda water."
"Mmm. I see."
"Don't worry. I'm not an alcoholic. I just don't feel it tonight."
"I see."
"I haven't felt it for awhile now."
"I could tell."
"You're new here aren't you?"
"You could tell?"
"Kind of. You don't look like the rest of the people here." he pointed at the drunken, hunched over crowd.
"I just got in. Literally today. I like this place. The O District."
Tim laughed. "Well there you go. That's a sure tell sign that you're new. Newcomers either love The O or hate it. Depends on how much you can tolerate rain I guess."
"Well I came to Streak City wanting to write. I thought I might write the kinds of books that Ferriss and Robbins writes. But who knows. Maybe I'll want to write some fiction too. Isn't that why you're in the O District?"
Tim finished his virgin tonic and put the glass on the bartop. J thought about offering to buy him a drink. He wanted to hear his story. But given that the stranger had already said he wasn't feeling it tonight J held back his offer.
"Want to grab a coffee sometime? I'm over at the Estuary Boarding House."
Tim imagined himself immediately saying no. I'm on my way out of this fucking shit hole. Not just The Fucking Latrine but I mean Streak City as a whole. Why the hell would I want to waste my time grabbing a coffee with you. You random newcomer.
But he said, "yes" instead. "Sure."
They exchanged names.
"I'm Tim. Tim Subiaco."
"I'm J."
Tim said his goodbye and left The Rusty Latrine. While walking aimlessly through the streets he thought about why he had agreed to coffee with J. He thought about how earlier that evening he had been struck by another newcomer. The starry eyed kid that he had gifted his umbrella too. He felt a tinge of nostalgia, which made him wonder. How could one be nostalgic for a place they had yet to leave?
