I met biker dude last night. 50 or so years old. Zephyrhills cab driver now working at a bike shop in Manhattan, he knew the crackhouses of that small Florida town, he knew all the cracklords there, he knew the 3 or 4 houses they occupied.
In one hour of conversation he never asked a single question about me, but I learned maybe a little too much about him. He referred to his cock several times, saying he wished he was a younger man because he was “suitably endowed to make a lot of money as a porn star.”
Several other references to his cock.
Biker dude talked about his cock like something passing by on the television. And I gotta tell you, the only groups of people I have ever known to talk about their cocks like biker dude were comedians and computer programmers. Old school pre-Internet computer programmers. I used to sit and hear these guys describe themselves as “THE FUCKIN’ ENERGIZER BUNNY, MAN!” and I would get sudden headaches.
Same headache as last night, when biker dude whipped his cock into the conversation. I cradled my top right temple in all my fingers minus the pinky. I studied his face and the possible nuance of his words for something to change the conversation away from his cock. I studied the faces and asses and breasts of the girls sitting behind him, looking for some way out of this conversation.
Biker dude lives in a room in Corona, has an ex-wife in Zephyrhills, wears a Buccaneers cap and knows every Bucs quarterback from Steve Spurrier to Brad Johnson (Like me, he lost interest in the Bucs after the Super Bowl win. I tried to bond over this speck of common ground, tried to talk about that instead of his goddam cock).
Biker dude is laying low after getting a disorderly conduct in Manhattan a few weeks ago.
I got up to leave and he said “Tell you the truth, Mark, you’re pretty goddam depressing.”
I said “Yeah, and chicks love this shit.”
No I didn’t.
I said “Welcome to my world!”
No I didn’t.
I agreed with him. Emphatically, with as much emphasis as “the most depressing motherfucker in the world” could muster.
That’s what I did.
